


Growth

by julia12084



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M, but it will be worth it, im weak for AUs, no romance until MUCH later in the story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2019-11-19 15:16:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 38
Words: 161,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18137435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julia12084/pseuds/julia12084
Summary: "There were about a million other things Prince Rowan Whitethorn of Doranelle would rather be doing than taking five months out of his life and training a spoiled 8 year-old princess in magic."AU where Erawan was never raised and Aelin began her training early on. Stretches over years.





	1. Chapter 1

**Part I**

There were about a million other things Prince Rowan Whitethorn of Doranelle would rather be doing than taking five months out of his life and training a spoiled 8 year-old princess in magic.

He supposed five months really wasn't that long in the lifespan of an immortal but five months every year for ten years until the princess reached maturity would be… tedious to say the least. But, his queen commanded it and he could not refuse.

The bad blood and distrust between Queen Maeve of Doranelle and the Galathynius’ has been well known through the lands for centuries. No one really knew what caused it, but Rowan had heard stories here and there, most of which were utter nonsense and faerie tales. But, the tension was there and that was undeniable. Which was why he was heading to Terrasen, the stronghold of the Galathynius line.

When Evalin Ashryver Galathynius had given the kingdom of Terrasen an heir, Rowan's queen was instantly intrigued. The mixing of the Ashryver and Galathynius bloodlines had a promise of power, and his queen wished to know just what manner of power the young princess held. She had been sending correspondence to Terrasen since the birth of the princess, trying to convince Evalin to bring her child back to her homelands of Wendlyn, but every time, she refused.

Until recently.

Something made Evalin and her husband Rhoe change their minds, but only partially. A compromise was reached. The princess wouldn't travel to Doranelle to train. Rather, they requested that Maeve send someone of her choosing to train the girl until she was mature and had a handle on her powers.

Maeve chose Rowan. He wasn't quite sure why. Yes, he tended to be easier to work with than Lorcan, but he wasn't a kind or patient teacher. Rowan figured she would have sent Gavriel, who had infinite patience, or maybe even Fenrys, who, although annoying at times, was the kindest among them all. Either of them would have been a more obvious choice to send to train a child.

But, his queen requested that it be him. And one did not question Queen Maeve's orders.

Which was why he was riding up to the towering stone fortress of Orynth. His keen eyes could make out countless sentries posted along the walls, a small cabal of what were most likely well-trained guards surrounding the royal family, ready to greet him.

Rowan, despite his centuries of travel, had never been to this continent before, let alone Terrasen. He found the vast mountain passes capped with snow and the sprawling tangle of the Oakwald to be… pleasant, he supposed. The air was crisp and cool, so much cooler than Doranelle. He supposed there were worse places to spend months of one's life.

Rowan slowed his horse down as he reached the congregation. He quickly recognized Orlon, King of Terrasen. He gave off the air of a once mighty man. He had managed to keep some of his physique despite his aging. Atop of his steadily graying hair was the antler crown.

Beside King Orlon was Prince Rhoe and his wife, Evalin. Rhoe was tall and strongly built, deep brown hair and eyes that watched him warily. Around his stern mouth was a well-kept beard, which appeared to have a few streaks of white in it already.

Evalin was lovely. A kind face and Ashryver eyes. Her golden hair was loose and fell down the back of her pale green gown.

And, standing at her legs, was Rowan's cause to be here. Eyes that matched her mother's were narrowed slightly at him, an unseen fire dancing in the gold ringing her pupil. Her golden hair was up in a few twists and braids. She wore a simple deep green velvet dress with the Terrasen stag stitched on the bodice in silver. She wore a circlet fashioned into thin antler horns.

Rowan dismounted his horse, booted feet slamming into the dirt ground. The weapons he had stashed on his being jangled and clattered together. He yanked back the hood of his dirtied cloak before bowing before the royal family.

“Your majesty,” he spoke before straightening.

“Welcome, Prince,” the king spoke. “I hope your travels were well,”

“That they were, your majesty,” Rowan said. Though the trip was long, it wasn't difficult. There had been no hidden dangers on the road, no particularly bad weather save for a little rainfall here and there.

“We are all certainly happy to have you here,” the king continued, though Rowan could tell from Rhoe's hard gaze and the guards that they were not as happy as Orlon made them out to be. They were only tolerating his presence because they had to. “My dear niece is most excited to begin her training,”

The king’s sparkling eyes looked down to his niece fondly, the girl mustering up a tiny smile to her uncle in return before her eyes were back on Rowan, narrowed yet again.

Aelin Ashryver Galathynius.

The unrelenting flame in her eyes told him one thing.

This wasn't going to be easy.

…

Aelin studied her new mentor carefully.

He was tall, towering even, and built with hard muscle. A warrior through and through. His green eyes held no joy or spark in them and were busy assessing every detail of his surroundings. His shoulder-length silver hair was tied back to the nape of his neck, giving the princess a clear view of the wicked tattoos that descended down the left side of his face before disappearing under the collar to his tunic. She could tell it was written in the Old Language, but Aelin hadn't been taught how to read it. And the pointed ears… Fae. Aelin had only seen a handful of Fae before, not counting her when she accidentally slipped into her Fae form.

Aelin was eyeing the gleaming hatchets attached to his hip when Aedion whispered from beside her.

“That's _the_ Rowan Whitethorn,”

Aelin pursed her lips in annoyance. Ever since Queen Maeve had sent word of who would be traveling to Terrasen, her cousin had been talking non-stop about this Rowan Whitethorn. Apparently, he was a renowned warrior. He couldn't have been that good if she had never heard of him.

“He once killed a war lord with a table,” Aedion murmured while the prince and her uncle conversed.

“With a table?” Aelin hissed back, moving her lips as little as possible so her parents wouldn't scold her for speaking when she shouldn't. “Did he squish him? Like a grape?”

Aedion’s answer was simply an incredulous face.

“Come, you will be shown to your rooms,” Orlon said. “We will give you time to rest and freshen up before dinner,”

Rowan bowed his head once again. “Thank you, majesty,”

His eyes traveled to Aelin once again. The princess searched for any hints of laughter or kindness in them but only found coldness.

She hated him already.

…

The rooms Rowan was given were good enough. Perhaps a bit finer than he was used to but good. He had a small balcony that overlooked the immense landscape or Terrasen. Perhaps he would take some time to fly over the mountain tops, to feel the cold, northern winds.

But, tonight he was expected to dine with the royal family. And tomorrow morning, he would begin Aelin's training.

So, he bathed and scrubbed the grime from traveling off his body before changing into his cleanest tunic, which probably wasn't quite fit for dining with royalty but he wasn't here to make niceties. He would dine with them tonight as was polite and customary. Rowan needed to make a good impression and stay in the Galathynius’ good graces. Maeve, although she was satisfied with the compromise they made for now, still longed to see Aelin herself one day. For that to happen, Terrasen would need to trust Doranelle. It was partially Rowan's job to ensure that happened.

While he waited to be summoned to dinner, Rowan used his spare time to clean the cache of weapons he had brought along. They weren't necessarily dirty, but the process was somewhat soothing.

He was in the middle of cleaning his pair of hatchets when there was a sharp knock on the door, alerting him that the time had come for him to try and be civil. He was essentially a prince in title only. When Rowan was younger, he had gotten basic court training, enough to get him by, but he had left that life behind. He would gladly take killing fields over political parties any day.

It was a young, scrawny boy who had come to fetch him. The boy had taken one look at Rowan’s opposing figure, which took up nearly the entirety of the doorway, and had paled slightly. He didn't look the warrior in the eye once as he led him to the dining room.

The stone halls of Orynth could have easily been cold and unwelcoming, but the king ensured they were not. Torches lit the halls, making sure no corner was left in darkness. There were paintings and tapestries decorating the walls, but nothing too extravagant. Rowan rather liked it. He had visited palaces where every spare inch was stuffed with overt displays of wealth. Satin curtains, gold chess sets, silver tea cups… but not here, even though Terrasen could be considered the most powerful and prosperous kingdom on the continent.

Rowan was the last to arrive to the dining room. The royal family was all sat down. Orlon at the head, an older man to his right. Darrow, Rowan assumed. The king's lover. Across from Darrow was a empty seat, which Rowan assumed was for him. That put him between the king and Rhoe. Beside Rhoe was his wife. The children were at the end of the table.

The young princess was still eyeing him warily as he took his seat. Across from the princess was a young boy, a handful of years older than her. Aedion Ashryver, then. The boy favored to take the blood oath to Aelin once she became queen. They looked terribly alike, same coloring down to the matching eyes. If Rowan didn't know any better, he would assume they were siblings.

He doubted the pair were aware about the short-lived marriage negotiations between the two. Maeve shot it down rather quickly, Rowan wasn't sure why. His queen’s reasons were her own… but looking at the two, some part of Rowan felt a slight sense of relief that Maeve turned it down. He had heard that the Ashryver boy was deeply loyal to his cousin and was in training to become a soldier, a warrior even. There was a wildness in his eye that told Rowan that the boy wouldn't enjoy court life one bit.

The boy was watching Rowan closely with intelligent eyes. There was something painfully familiar about the boy, but before Rowan could ponder it further, Rhoe spoke.

“Good evening, Prince,” the man spoke.

“Good evening, your highness,” said Rowan, nodding his head in recognition.

“How fares things in Doranelle?” Rhoe asked as the servants around them began to move and bring out the first course, a simple beef stew.

“Prosperous,” Rowan said simply. There wasn't really much else to describe. They were at peace. Crops were flourishing, trade was plentiful.

“What of Mistward?” Evalin asked. “Do you know of a man named Emrys?”

Evalin Ashryver had spent time in the fortress of the demi-Fae before she returned to Terrasen and bore Aelin. Rowan knew of who she spoke of. One of the demi-Fae who lacked in abilities that would catch Maeve's eye, leaving him to spend the remainder of his life at Mistward. He had spoken to him a few times.

“Mistward fares well,” Rowan said, though it had been a good four years since he stopped by. “Emrys seemed content the last time I saw him. Recently mated, actually,”

Evalin beamed. “If you see him again, please send him my regards,”

“Of course,”

As they ate the first course, there was idle chatter. Relatively simple questions about Doranelle, nothing too invasive. A question about how Maeve was, which put a bit of tension in the air, which Rhoe then tried to cut through by changing the topic slightly as their dishes were cleared away.

“Have you experience training younglings?” the prince of Terrasen asked.

Rowan could tell that Rhoe was extremely protective of his family, especially his little daughter. It would explain why he had been looking at Rowan like he was some half-wild beast the moment he arrived.

Rowan leaned back in his seat slightly. “I have trained children a handful of years older than your daughter. Thirteen, perhaps,”

The princess cut him a sharp look that seemed to say _Don't talk about me like I'm not here._

Rowan looked away from the young princess back to Rhoe. “But, the training I did for them was for battle. They needed to be older then. For magic, the earlier she learns to control her powers the better,”

“And will you be training her simply to control her powers or how to fight with them?” Rhoe asked.

Rowan hesitated a moment, not sure how to answer the question. He had not received orders on how to specifically train the girl. “Would you like for her to learn how to use her powers for battle?”

The prince of Terrasen didn't answer right away. He simply glanced to his wife and then to his daughter. The girl's eyes held a stubborn spark in them at the thought of using her powers to battle, to protect. He then looked to his king. Orlon gave a nearly imperceivable nod.

Rhoe let out a long breath before looking back towards Rowan. “Yes. I want her to be able to protect herself and others, with both magic and blade, if you would be so willing,”

There had been no command to train the girl in weaponry, but there had also been no order against it. Rowan knew that it was always good to be trained in steel alongside magic. Magic can run out, leaving the wielder defenseless. Rowan had seen it plenty of times on killing fields. Talented magic users whose well ran dry, who weren’t skilled in blade, and met their untimely end.

“As you command, your highness,”

The next course was brought out. Herb roasted rabbit and potatoes. Even Rowan, who didn’t consider himself a glutton, felt his mouth water at the smell of it.

From the end of the table, a plate was placed before the princess. She inhaled the savory aroma deeply before her face screwed up slightly. Not in distaste but rather-

The girl let out a mighty sneeze that shook her entire body, and, in a flash of white light, shifted.

Rowan looked closely at the girl’s other form, at her now-pointed ears and slightly elongated canines, but her face was still scrunched up as she dragged a hand down it.

“Ow,” Aelin whimpered slightly, running her tongue over the gums around her canines. From across the table, her cousin snickered in amusement.

Rowan looked away from the girl back towards Rhoe and Orlon. “Can she control it?”

“No,” King Orlon said. “It happens at random,”

“I can speak for myself, uncle,” Aelin piped up, mouth still moving in a way that told Rowan she was trying to get used to the change.

Orlon looked to his niece fondly, a spark of amusement in his eyes. “Of course you can, Aelin,”

The princess cut Rowan a hard look once again that said _If you have a question about me, ask me, you brute._

“When do you expect to begin her training?” Evalin asked.

“As soon as possible,” Rowan said. “Tomorrow morning, even, if that is alright with you,”

“The sooner the better,” Rhoe said. “Tomorrow it is,”

…

Dinner ended and the children were dismissed to allow the adults some more time to discuss adult things. Essentially, Aelin and Aedion were on their own to keep busy until someone came to wrestle them into a bath and then bed.

“I can’t believe you get to train with Rowan Whitethorn,” Aedion complained for perhaps the fifth time that day. “You don’t even know who he is,”

“I know he’s cranky and old,” Aelin grumbled. “Which means that I’m not gonna have any fun for five months every year for ten years,”

Aedion made a face. “So ungrateful!” he reached out and tugged on the point of his cousins ear, which she batted away testily. “At least you can bond about pointy ears,”

Aelin snarled at him.

“You’re always so much angrier when you’re in this form,” Aedion commented.

“Maybe you’re just extra annoying,” another voice added as Ren Allsbrook fell in step with them.

“He’s right,” Aelin said, looking towards the dark-haired boy. He was about the same height and age as Aedion. The two boys used to always be at one another’s throats, fighting over a future blood oath that would be Aelin’s to give away in the future. But, when it became apparent that Aedion would be the one to take it, their rivalry toned down to good old-fashioned male competitiveness that drove Aelin absolutely mad.

“What’s he like?” Ren asked Aedion, eyes glimmering with curiosity.

“Exactly like you would think,” Aedion said, barely concealed excitement on his face. “He’s huge. When he showed up, he was practically a walking armory. Fae blades and hatchets,”

“Does he really have the tattoo?”

“All down the side of his face to the tip of his fingers,” Aedion confirmed. “I wonder if it really is a list of all the people he’s killed,”

Aelin let out a very unprincess-like groan, throwing her head back dramatically. “All I hear is Rowan this and Rowan that. I haven’t had a full conversation with him yet and I’m already tired of him!” she looked sharply at the two boys who would be members of her court one day. “If this is going to be what I hear for the rest of the night, I’m going to my rooms,”

She didn’t bother saying farewell before breezing down the hall away from the boys, mind already on the book she had sitting on her bedside table.

“So ungrateful!” Ren commented as he watched the princess leave.

“That’s what I said!”

…

Aelin bathed and slipped into her most comfortable nightgown. She spent an hour or so thumbing through the pages of the book she had been reading before the sun set and the night turned cool. A fire was lit in the hearth by a maid who disappeared as soon as the flames began devouring the wood. It was just Aelin and the fire, the crackling embers whispering to her through the darkness, calling to her, to the wildfire in her veins.

Aelin’s eyes were glued on the fire as she tossed the blankets back and crossed her room, the stone floors cold under her bare feet. The princess kneeled before the hearth, close enough that she could feel the heat dancing across her skin. The light from the fire drowned her face in a warm glow and set the ring of gold around her pupil molten.

The fire whispered to her, beckoned her to come nearer, to taste the power that she had in her blood. Aelin reached a hand out to the writhing, gold flames that caressed and kissed at the skin of her palm without burning. The fire snaked and twisted her way up her forearm, dancing between her fingers. The power in her blood jumped and danced in delight at the use, but it wanted more, more, _more_ -

“What are you doing?!”

Aelin gasped and jumped at the voices, not hearing anyone enter, too engrossed in her own magic. The fires quickly winked out as if they were never there.

Aelin’s mother and father were standing in the doorway, horror on their faces.

“I-I’m sorry,” Aelin stuttered, scrambling away from the fire, her powers once again shoved back down inside of her.

Her parents crossed the room, Rhoe scooping his daughter into his arms and lifting her from the floor. He sat on the edge of the bed, Evalin lowering herself beside him.

“You know it’s dangerous,” Rhoe said. “You could have burnt down your entire room. You remember what happened with the books,”

“I remember,” Aelin said, voice cracking. She still carried the guilt and regret in her for every page she had accidentally turned to ash.

“It’s going to get better, Fireheart,” Evalin said softly, soothing her daughter’s hair. “That’s why Rowan is here. He’s going to teach you how to use your magic, then nothing bad will happen again,”

“I don’t like him,” Aelin grumbled.

Rhoe’s laughter rumbled through his chest. “You haven’t even known him a day,”

“I can already tell he’s old and cranky,”

“Well, he is over three-hundred,” Evalin smiled.

“Three-hundred?” Aelin breathed in amazement. It was almost too much for the girl to comprehend. “Will I live that long?”

Rhoe and Evalin glanced towards one another briefly. They had heard the whispers through the castle, from scholars, from the few Fae that passed through. They can read the signs, her power. They say that she was predicted to Settle.

“Perhaps,” Rhoe said. “But we won’t know for many years,”

They sat in comfortable silence for a few more moments before Aelin spoke.

“I’m scared,” she admitted, still clutching onto her father’s tunic. “What if-what if I don’t learn to control it? What if I hurt someone?”

“Aelin, you can do anything you set your mind to,” Evalin said. “You’re smart and strong and stubborn,” she accentuated that word with a little pinch to her daughter’s side that made her giggle. “You will master your powers, and knowing you, you’ll go above and beyond,”

Aelin managed a small smile.

“Now, it’s high time for you to get some sleep,” Rhoe said, placing his daughter under the covers and tucking her in. “You have a busy day tomorrow.”

Rhoe and Evalin both pressed a kiss to the crown of Aelin’s head.

“Goodnight, Fireheart,”

“Goodnight,”


	2. Chapter 2

Aelin didn’t know what she expected from her first day of training. She had dressed in a light tunic, leggins, and boots. One of her ladies in waiting plaited back her hair tightly and neatly. She ate a light but healthy breakfast to keep her energized through the day as her mother stressed how much magic could eat away at one’s strength.

 Then, she was outside the gates, where Rowan Whitethorn already stood. He was donned in a simple gray tunic, his hatchets attached to his hips, probably more weapons hidden upon his being. Aelin wondered why he even bothered when they were living in such a time of peace.

 Rowan’s eyes landed on the princess as she stopped before him, face not shifting at all from the coldness it now displayed.

 The warrior didn’t bother with greetings, simply jerking his head towards the line of the Oakwald forest.

 “Let’s go,”

 Aelin was not used to people speaking to her so bluntly, but she quickly followed behind him, having to walk rather fast to keep up with his long strides.

 Rowan did not utter another word until they reached a small clearing in the forest.

 “This will work,”

 Aelin readied herself to call forth the magic in her blood, to try and tame the fire in it. She readied herself to learn and fight.

 She was not ready, however, to be told to sit down and listen as Rowan spoke… and spoke… and spoke.

 He launched into a lecture on magic, the history, the uses. He spoke of the gods who blessed their creations with magic. He spoke of those with magic of the elements, those who could heal or change skins, the magic of the Witches which could only be called forth during the Yielding, those with raw magic.

 Aelin tried not to let her boredom show itself on her face, though she felt as though it was slowly killing her.

 “And what kind of magic do you possess?” Aelin asked, leaning back on her hands and stretching out her legs in the warm afternoon sun.

 In response, a cold breeze caressed her face. Rowan held out a hand and conjured a small ball of ice.

 Aelin’s eyes grew wide as she watched his display of power. She hadn’t seen much of magic that wasn’t her own or her mother’s water affinity. It was amazing to see how else it could manifest.  

 “Do something else,” Aelin said, elation on her face at the display of magic.

 But, Rowan simply raised an unimpressed brow and his magic flickered away. “I am not here to entertain you with party tricks,”

 Aelin made a face and narrowed her eyes. “I wasn't asking for tricks. I just don't see magic often. And, if I'm going to be using mine today I want to see how its done,”

 “You won't be accessing your magic today,” Rowan said. “Maybe not even for the whole week. We're done for today,”

 “What?!” Aelin exclaimed, springing up from the grassy floor. “That's it?”

 “You still have much to learn about the basics of magic,” Rowan explained. “And children do not have a long attention span. I need you to listen. The best way to do it is to explain it in pieces,”

 "I can listen just fine!”

 “You already started pulling out all the grass around you,” Rowan said, pointing out evidence of her boredom. “We're done for today,”

 

…

 

Rowan tried to ignore how the princess was stomping her way back towards Orynth. She didn't get her way and now she was throwing a tantrum. Typical. He could still feel her glaring daggers at his back.

 “I expect to see you same time tomorrow,” Rowan said before the girl could disappear.

 She spun around to face him, braid whipping wildly. “For more lectures?”

 “Exactly,”

 Her lip twitched like she wanted to say something else but thought better of it, swiftly turning heel and storming back into the castle.

 Rowan shook his head slightly at the girl. He hadn't spent much time with children, but knew most as young as the princess were not so headstrong. They were usually quiet and reserved. He wondered why the gods gave him the one child that would probably physically brawl with him if she were larger.

 Rowan sighed and headed to his rooms to rest and nurse the beginnings of a headache he was already feeling.

 

…

 

Aelin was a tiny force of nature as she prowled through the halls, a sour look on her face. She wanted to hit something very, very badly… but she would have to wait until she was alone because that was unprincess-like. Aelin was always toeing the line of being improper, pushing the boundaries… but she thought that punching the wall wasn't the best idea, especially so soon after the book burning incident.

 She went towards the kitchens for lunch and found her cousin was already there, sweaty and dirty from training and digging into roasted chicken. He paused his gobbling when he saw Aelin.

 “How was it?” he asked, sucking some of the seasoning off his fingers.

 “I hate him,”

 “You've already said that,” Aedion commented. “What did you do? Did he show you any magic?”

 Aelin slid into a wooden bench across from her cousin, reaching out and grabbing an apple from the basket in the middle of the table. “He conjured a tiny ball of ice and a bit of breeze. That’s it. Nothing impressive,”

 Aedion scoffed. “It's nothing impressive because he _chose_ not to bother impressing you. He can do a lot more. He's the most powerful full-blooded Fae male in the world,”

 Aelin blinked once. That grumpy old male was _that_ powerful? And he was spending five months of his year, every year, to train _her?_

 “Whatever he is,” Aelin said, biting into the flesh of the apple. “He said I won't even begin to use my magic for a _week._ ”

 “It will be a miracle if you can survive listening to him talk for another day,”

 

…

 

Aelin managed to get through two more days without cracking. Two days of Rowan explaining how magic worked, about spiraling down into one's power to release it in the most effective ways, about controlling the release, or how some more powerful Fae need to relieve the strain by siphoning their power on little things.

 Today, he was explaining one's magical limits. Aelin had almost made it through the entire lecture, but she was sitting by a little patch of wildflowers and her fingers itched to twist them into a chain. Aelin had only finished adding three of the little blue buds into the chain before Rowan noticed.

 “Are you even listening?” he snapped.

 “Yes,” Aelin lied.

 Rowan sneered. “I know your attention span is about as long as a dog's, but this is important,”

 Aelin tried to overlook the tiny insult.

 “You need to know when you've reached your limit,” Rowan continued. “A burnout can _kill_ you. And it's not a kind death. Your magic will consume you from the inside out,”

 Aelin swallowed hard. “Have you seen someone die of a burnout?”

 “Many times,” Rowan said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Young Fae who weren't properly trained and died a horrible death,”

 Aelin dropped her flower chain onto the grass beside her. The idea of her magic destroying her like that, the flame in her blood consuming her… she didn't want to imagine it.

 “So… when you run out of magic, that's it?” Aelin asked. “You just… stop?”

 “You stop, you use your blades, or there's the _carranam._ ”

 “ _Carranam?”_ Aelin repeated, the Old Language which Rowan spoke so perfectly sounded clumsy and foreign on her tongue.

 “Soul bonded warriors,” Rowan explained. “If their magic is compatible, they can share one another's strength when they have an active blood connection,”

 “Does everyone have a _carranam?_ ”

 “Finding _carranam_ is rare,” Rowan said. “Most don't have one.”

 “So it's like a Mate but for magic?”

 Rowan hesitated a beat, as if the question threw him off balance. “What does a mortal child know of Mates?”

 Aelin gave a tiny shrug. “Not much. Only what I read. A match made by the Gods, equals… and that, although I'm predicted to Settle, my Fae blood is probably too diluted to even have one,” she glanced up and found that Rowan's brows had knitted together. “I hear people talk. They forget how well I can hear when I'm in my Fae form,”

 “You don't sound very pleased about the idea,”

 Aelin looked down as started picking at the grass. “If I Settle and become immortal, I will outlive everyone around me. I'd stay young while Aedion and Ren grew old, as the entire court ages and passes by me. Immortality sounds rather lonely when you're the only one who has it,” she glanced up. “What's Settling like?”

 Rowan thought for a moment, searching for the best way to word it. “I've only witnessed it a few times. It's a process that can take about a month, and, from what I've seen, is rather painful. Every bit of your body will have to adjust to the magic and immortality. Some magic gets stronger, some stays the same, some lose it entirely,”

 Rowan studied the princess as she absorbed that knowledge. She asked mighty complicated questions for a child who hadn't been in the world for even a decade, a child who knew too much, who felt too much. He briefly wondered what it felt like to have your life planned out for you since birth. She was born to become queen someday and no matter what she did, she couldn't change that.

 Rowan glanced away from the princess. “I think that's enough for today,”

 

…

 

 The next morning, Aelin and Aedion walked towards the dining room together, both dressed for their individual training. Aelin in her tunic and Aedion in his light leathers. The people who saw them walking together could tell they would be quite the pair in the future. Aedion, who was already growing like a weed and excelled in his training would make a formidable warrior. And Aelin, the future queen, who already held an intelligent and slightly wicked spark in her eyes. Together, the cousins would ensure that Terrasen continued their reign as the most powerful kingdom on the continent.

 As they walked through the towering oak doors, Aedion showed his cousin the new dagger he had been given. It was nothing special, very simple and common, but he took pride in it nonetheless.

 Aelin's attempts to convince Aedion to get one for her as well were stopped instantly when they saw the addition to the dining room.

 Rowan was standing there speaking with Rhoe, Evalin, and Orlon. Darrow was seated already, watching them with a critical eye. He hadn't shared a meal with their family since the first night, but here he was, donned in his normal functional but simple clothes.

 Aelin tried not to show her confusion as she said a quick good morning to her family and sat down beside Darrow, who smiled at her.

 “I think you have a big day today, princess,” Darrow murmured softly, not taking his eyes off the conversation happening across the room.

 Aelin raised a brow at the older man as her cousin slid into the seat beside her.

 “Today, you’ll begin using your magic,” Darrow said. “So, you better eat up,”

 Aelin’s eyes flickered over to her cousin, matching looks of surprise and anticipation in their eyes. She wasted to time before reaching out and piling a small mountain of eggs on her plate and digging in enthusiastically.

 The adults finished their conversations while the children (Aedion objected to being called a child. He _was_ thirteen, afterall) finished their breakfast. It wasn’t until the steady murmur of the royal family dimmed down before Rowan stalked over to where the young princess sat, speaking softly with her cousin.

 Both of their golden heads turned to look at him and once again, Rowan was blown away by how similar they looked. But, not nearly as blown away as when he scented the boy.

 Rowan hadn’t been close enough to get a good read on the boy until now, and when that familiar scent reached his nose, Rowan nearly couldn’t believe it. He had thought there was something familiar about the Ashryver boy, and he had been right.

 Gavriel. He was Gavriel’s son.

 He had no idea that his comrade had even sired a son… but then again, maybe Gavriel didn't know either. He knew his friend. The Lion of Doranelle wouldn't have abandoned his child if he knew he had one.

 Why didn't the mother reach out?

 But Rowan already knew the answer to that.

 The blood oath.

 Aedion’s mother wouldn't risk the chance of her son falling into the Fae queen's hands. Rowan had never heard of someone under a blood oath siring children, or if the blood oath would then extend to them. The boy's mother was smart not to risk it, he supposed.

 “Let's go, princess,”

 Said princess was looking at him with slightly scrunched eyes, not glaring as she often did, but studying, as if she had seen every thought that had flashed through his mind in that heartbeat.

 As Aelin stood, Rowan glanced once more towards the Ashryver boy, inclining his head slightly. “Prince,”

 Aedion had seemed surprised he even looked at him, but he quickly wiped it off his face. “Your highness,”

 Rowan tried not to cringe at the term, though it was proper for his standing. He could tolerate prince. At this point it felt like just another name but anything beyond that… not so much.

 The princess was by his side, looking up with expectant eyes. Rowan simply jerked his head towards the door and they were off.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok a little bit more. Hope yall are enjoying! let me know what you think:)


	3. Chapter 3

Aelin was buzzing with both excitement and nervousness as they made their way to their normal clearing in the Oakwald. The thought of accessing her magic had washed away all thoughts of that strange look that had passed through Rowan’s eyes this morning, so quick that it was nearly gone before Aelin had noticed it. She doubted Rowan would mention it. He didn’t talk to her about anything other than magic and training, though Aelin supposed it made sense. A three-hundred year old immortal warrior and an eight-year old princess didn’t have a lot of common ground. 

But, all that excitement and giddiness that Aelin had felt had fizzled out within five minutes of their day.

Rowan had said one word.

Shift.

Aelin’s heart had dropped like a stone. He knew she had no control over her shifting. She could only shift accidentally. She would shift when startled or in the middle of a fight with Aedion, sometimes she would wake up in the morning and find that she had somehow shifted overnight. She didn’t even know where to start.

“Try,” was all the advice Rowan gave her. 

And she did. She tried, and tried, and tried, but… nothing. She reached down deep within herself, trying to find the spot where her magic slumbered, but found what felt like adamant stone walls stopping her from going any deeper. 

They were there for maybe all of two hours before Rowan either noted the tiredness on the girl’s face or became so fed up with waiting he couldn’t handle it anymore. Aelin couldn’t really blame him. She was just as annoyed with herself. 

She had been so frustrated with herself that she had almost brought herself to the brink of tears… almost. Aelin wouldn’t cry about this, and she especially wouldn’t let Rowan see her cry, lest he use it against her and make him think she was even more of a spoiled, whiney princess. 

Aelin went straight to her rooms to bathe and found herself so tired that she had nearly fallen asleep in the warm tub. She managed to stay awake long enough to change into a nightgown and stumble into bed. Sleep claimed her nearly before her head hit the pillow. 

Sometime in the day, her parents had come in to check on her, concerned looks on their faces. Aelin was certain Rowan had already told them about her failure to shift today, so there was no point in lying. She just told them that trying to access her magic had worn her out and that she would like to take her dinner in her rooms. Her parents had obliged her request and Aedion had come in later to eat and provide his cousin company. 

The next day wasn’t much better… or the next. 

Aelin couldn’t manage to get even close to shifting. So, Rowan decided to not waste time. When he wasn’t hovering over her, trying to get her to shift, he was making her do exercises. Part of Aelin felt that part of the training was more for punishment than anything else. 

On the third day of no success, Aelin was panting and sweating, kneeling by the edge of a creek and splashing her flushed skin with cool water as she tried to tame her breathing. She could feel Rowan behind her, waiting until she had relaxed and calmed down a bit so she could continue. 

Aelin took one last deep, steadying breath before turning around and looking towards the silver-haired prince and tucking her knees to her chest. 

“Can you shift?” Aelin asked.

“Of course I can shift,” Rowan said, cocking his head to the side. 

“Will you shift for me?” Aelin asked, before adding quickly, “No party trick. I just want to see how it’s done,”

Rowan considered her request for a moment before a bright, white light flashed through the clearing. In Rowan’s place now flapped a white-tailed hawk. Aelin’s lips parted slightly at the sight. She had never seen another Fae shift before. But, before she had much time to appreciate it more, that white light flashed once again and Rowan stood at the base of the towering pine tree.

“Where do your clothes go? And your weapons?” Aelin asked, standing.

Rowan shrugged. “Somewhere. No where. No one really knows and it doesn’t matter in the long run,”

Well, Aelin supposed that was an almost nicer way of saying  _ That was a stupid question. _

“Does it hurt when you shift?”

“No,”

“Oh…” said Aelin smally, looking up from her hands back at Rowan. “If you cut your hair, what will happen to your feathers?”

The Fae prince scowled. “Shift,”

Aelin pursed her lips but didn’t argue. She shut her eyes softly, searching through herself for that place she couldn’t quite reach, but there was still that fortress of impenetrable stone that stopped her from reaching it. Aelin tried to wear it down, punching at it, clawing at it but… nothing. She simply was launched far, far away from it.

Aelin gasped as her eyes flew open. The air had been knocked out of her lungs, her knees wobbling dangerously until she fell onto the soft grass.

“Are you even trying?” Rowan snarled.

“I’m trying!” Aelin all but screamed, grabbing handfuls of grass between her fingers. “I’m trying, I’m trying, I’m-” her bottom lip wobbled dangerously. “I need to be able to do this. I  _ need  _ to. If I don’t learn how to control my power…”

“What,” Rowan said simply, without any compassion and stood before the princess. “What will happen?”

Aelin looked up, lip curled and sorrow and anger in her silver lined eyes. “Do you know  _ why  _ my mother and father agreed to let you come here?” she asked. Rowan’s silence was her cue to continue. “I burnt down an entire shelf of books in the library. An entire shelf and now I’m not allowed in the library anymore… my favorite place,” her voice began to crack. “And the other children in the castle, they aren’t allowed near me because I can… I can  _ hurt  _ them without meaning it,” the tears began to fall freely from her eyes now, no longer able to care about what Rowan thought. “So  _ yes,  _ I’m trying. Because the next mistake I make, I could hurt someone I love,”

Aelin inhaled a shakey, deep breath just as she briefly disappeared in a flash of white light. Her face was scrunched up slightly at the pain, at her now pointed ears and elongated canines.

The princess sniffed and wiped furiously under her eyes, angry at herself for showing such weakness. She was ready for Rowan to scold her, to launch into another lecture. However, she was not ready when he sat down in the grass across from her, long legs splayed out before him. His face wasn’t as stern as usual. It was the most relaxed Aelin had ever seen him. 

“Does your magic feel different when you shift into your Fae form?” Rowan asked.

Aelin gave a single nod. “It feels… hotter. Closer to the surface,”

Rowan absorbed that knowledge for a bit. “Your Fae blood is what amplifies the fire you received from Brannon. Although it’s possible for you to use your powers in your human form, it would make sense that your powers to be more… volatile when you’re in your Fae form,”

Aelin supposed that made sense. 

“Your inability to shift most likely plays on your fear of hurting someone with your power. Your fear might also be a reason why it hurts when you shift. You’re fighting against yourself,” he continued. “But when you feel other emotions strongly… it can bypass that fear and you can shift, even if you don’t mean to,”

Aelin’s brows furrowed as she looked to the prince, unsure about what he was trying to say to her.

“You can harness your emotions, like your anger or frustration, and shift. You can get past that block you put on yourself.”

“Do you use your anger?” Aelin asked.

“Not when I shift, but other times,” Rowan said. “When I fight, when I’m on the killing fields,”

“What make you angry?”

Rowan looked at Aelin for a moment longer before glancing away. “I have much to be angry about,”

Something about his tone told Aelin that would be as much he would say about the topic, but Aelin could have sworn she saw a glimmer of sorrow in his eyes. 

…

The next day, Rowan decided that they would be taking a break from magic. He would begin to teach her how to defend herself without magic. But, that didn’t mean that Aelin would be leaving behind magic totally. Rowan had instructed that she try and shift during breaks or when they weren’t training. Aelin, however, still hadn’t become successful at that skill. She had taken Rowan’s advice and tried to harness her emotions. The difficult part was trying to forge her emotions in a manner that could lead to her shifting. But, she supposed that practice makes perfect and that she would soon get her desired result. 

Training without magic wasn’t much fun either. Rowan never cracked jokes or even smiled. He was all business all the time. He was quick to point out what she was doing wrong and slow to praise, if he managed to at all.

At first, they didn’t even use blades. Just fists, basic self defence. Rowan stressed the importance of knowing how to protect before learning how to attack. At the time, there wasn’t too much Rowan could show her. Aelin was small, miniscule in comparison to the warrior. He taught her what he could on how to get away from someone trying to hurt her, but the main message of that lesson was to struggle and scream so that help could arrive. Aelin was eight, it would be near impossible for her to fight off a fully-grown assailant.

And so, the days flew by, and then the weeks, and the months.

Each week, they would switch off. One week, magic, another, blades and fists. Aelin most definitely felt as though she was improving much faster with defending herself without her fire. She still had a hard time shifting, but was getting better. She was able to shift a handful of times at Rowan’s command. When she did manage to shift, they worked on her fire.

At first, it didn’t go very well. Rowan wanted the princess to light a candle with her abilities. She ended up burning all the grass within fifty feet to ash. Luckily, Rowan was there to put out the flames before Aelin’s mistake created a forest fire. They started training beside the nearest stream after that.

After three months, when Aelin finally managed to properly light one of those damned candles, she had been elated. She had cheered and laughed and danced around the clearing. It may have been one time out of hundreds, but it was progress. It meant she was one step closer to having full control over her powers. 

Aelin had looked up at Rowan, beaming, a smile that was nearly too big for her face. She shone with glee, the complete and utter opposite of the cold look on Rowan’s face.

“Good,” was all the warrior said, not at all matching the euphoria the girl had shown as she frolicked around the clearing. He simply reached into his bag and pulled out another candle. “Again,”

That wide smile on the girl’s face had melted instantly.

And as that fifth month came to an end, Aelin was sure she would absolutely hate Rowan Whitethorn until the day she died. Perhaps she was too used to the court of Terrasen who all doted upon her endlessly. Perhaps it made her spoiled if she would like everyone to treat her like that, but she also knew that Rowan Whitethorn was a stone cold  _ bastard.  _ (A word Aedion had taught her recently and she had taken quite a liking to, especial when she thought of Rowan). 

And then, it was time for Rowan to leave. He gave Aelin a list of instructions to follow: practice shifting, if she was going to access and use her magic, ensure it was in a safe environment where she couldn’t hurt anyone or burn anything, continue practicing with her self-defence. 

The next thing Aelin knew, she was standing outside the gates of Orynth with her family and saying goodbye to the Fae warrior. 

Rowan was wearing his normal garb of boring yet practical tunics, boots, and well-worn cloak. Again, he was weighed down by weapons but it didn’t seem to affect him whatsoever. He was shaking hands with Orlon and Rhoe, bowing slightly before Evalin, before he stood before Aedion and Aelin. His green eyes flickered to the boy.

“I trust you will ensure your cousin continues to train,” Rowan said.

Aedion straightened and held himself taller as he gave a single, firm nod. “Yes, prince. Even if I have to fight her at it,”

Aelin narrowed her eyes at her cousin, who simply raised his brows as if to say  _ What? We all know you’re gonna fight.  _

Rowan then turned his attention to Aelin. It took every ounce of court training for the princess to give a dainty curtsey and say, “Thank you, Prince Rowan, for your help,”

Rowan bowed at the waist, probably the most prince-like she had ever really seen him. “It was an honor, princess,”

Both of them knew the other was flat-out lying. 

The prince said one last farewell to the royal family of Terrasen before he mounted his steed and disappeared. 

“Well,” Aelin said, glancing towards her cousin with a satisfied smirk on her face. “Seven months of peace,”

Aedion made a face. “Are you kidding? The day is young, and  _ you’re  _ training with me and Ren today,”

That smirk faltered when she realized he wasn’t kidding.

…

When Rowan Whitethorn arrived back to Doranelle, he didn’t take time to rest even though he was weary from his travels. Instead, he reported straight to his queen, as was expected. 

The stone palace of Doranelle was just as he remembered. Cold, mostly empty. There was soft music floating in the air, eerie and otherworldly. 

Maeve was sat upon her throne, donned in a deep purple velvet dress, her crown situated perfectly upon her dark hair. As usual, there was a look of perfect boredom on her face, though Rowan knew part of his queen longed to hear of the princess of Terrasen. 

Rowan noted the others floating around the edges of the throne room, sticking to the shadows. Unseen, but there. He locked gazes with Gavriel, his companion’s tawny eyes flashing from the dark. Rowan school his face into neutrality. He couldn’t tell his friend about Aedion. The Lion of Doranelle would do something foolish, perhaps. Try to fight against the oath. Maeve would notice the change in her blood sworn, and it wouldn’t be long until she found out what had caused the change. She would be interested in the Ashryver boy, perhaps would see if the blood oath extended to him. Rowan wouldn’t put Aedion into a situation in which he doesn’t belong. The boy was loyal to Terrasen, to his cousin. What kind of male would Rowan be if he took him away from that?

Rowan dropped to a knee before his queen, head dipped low in respect. 

“Rise, prince,” Maeve said, dark eyes glued on the warrior.

Rowan did as commanded and straightened. 

“I trust your travels went well?” Maeve asked, examining her nails.

Rowan knew his queen was simply asking to be polite. Maeve longed to know about the power Aelin harbored. “Quite well, majesty,”

Maeve’s eyes locked upon Rowan’s. “And the princess of Terrasen? Tell me of her,”

Rowan had weeks of travel to think about a response to the question he knew was coming. “She is undisciplined and lacks self-control. She has no handle on her powers and is just getting beginning to control her shifting.”

“As is to be expected,” Maeve said. “She is young, her powers still need to develop, to grow deeper… I expect her well of power runs deep, if the rumors are to be believed,”

Rowan gave a single nod. “Aye, from what I could tell, though she cannot access it fully yet,”

“No matter,” Maeve said. “She has plenty of time to master her abilities,”

Rowan wasn’t completely sure why Maeve was so invested in the girl’s well of power. He could only assume that she would want an alliance. The whispers about Aelin’s abilities already caused other kingdoms to look towards Terrasen, either as a potential ally or threat. A future queen with fire that could match that of Brannon’s… the possibilities were endless. 

“Rest now, prince,” Maeve said, dismissing him with a flick of the wrist. “You’ve had a long journey,” 

Rowan bowed deeply one last time before turning heel and heading down the hall towards his rooms, ready to bathe and rest. However, before he could get very far, he was intercepted 

“How was Terrasen?” Fenrys asked, falling instep with Rowan. “What was it like?”

Rowan spared a glance towards his younger companion. There was a wild and exhilarating gleam in his onyx eyes. Fenrys longed for freedom. Rowan felt that if the younger Fae could free himself from the blood oath, he would travel the world non-stop for the remainder of his life, always moving on to the next adventure. the next sight… but Fenrys did not yet have that luxury.

“Cold,” Rowan said. It was true. Terrasen was far colder than Wendlyn, even in its milder months. 

Fenrys rolled his eyes slightly at the bland answer. “What if the mountains? The Oakwald? Is it really has beautiful as they say?”

Rowan opened his mouth to tell Fenrys that he supposed it was rather picturesque, but before he could, a female voice cut through the air.

“Fenrys!”

The golden-haired Fae seemed to deflate at the sound of Maeve's words. That look of reckless curiosity was wiped from his face in an instant as he realized what was wanted of him.

Rowan felt a pang of pity travel through him as he looked at Fenrys. It wasn't a secret what Fenrys did for Maeve, what he shielded his brother from, though Connal did not show much gratitude for it. Although Fenrys sometimes drove Rowan to near madness at times, the young Fae didn't deserve the way he was treated in Maeve's court.

Fenrys inclined his head slightly at Rowan in respect and farewell before disappearing down the white marble passages of the palace.

Rowan's mind didn't linger on Fenrys as he made his way towards his rooms, content to rest and forget about Aelin Ashryver Galathynius for a few months.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter! I have about 100 pages written of this story right now so hopefully I'll be able to update often. Lmk what you think!


	4. Chapter 4

Children grew incredibly fast. 

That was Rowan Whitethorn's first thought as he once again rode up to the gates of Orynth seven months after he had left after his first session with the princess. 

It wasn't that Rowan hadn't ever interacted with children before. He had, even though Fae children were few and rare. He simply didn't spend  _ a lot  _ of time with children.

Aedion Ashryver had grew like a weed. At fourteen, he reached Rhoe's shoulders and Rowan could tell the boy wasn't done growing yet. He may even be as tall as Rowan one day, perhaps strong too once the boy grew into his now-skinny and gangly limbs. 

Aelin had grown as well, perhaps not as drastically as her cousin, but there was growth. She gained an inch or two. Other than that, she was more or less how Rowan remembered her: golden-haired, prim, and looking at him with annoyance in her turquoise eyes.

Yes, just as he remembered.

Rowan greeted Orlon and Rhoe once again, who were respectful and greeted him kindly enough for Rowan being someone that was sent by a monarch they still didn't trust.

Once again, Rowan was escorted to his rooms, the same as last time, by another young servant boy who refused to look him in the eye. Once again, he was to dine with the royal family. 

On the way to the dining halls, Rowan was steeling himself for the inevitable, slightly awkward small talk that was on the horizon. Answering questions about his journey, answering questions of Doranelle… just the idea was exhausting.

Again, Rowan was the last to arrive, although there were a few others seated at the long, mahogany table that Rowan didn't recognize. A couple about the same age as Evalin and Rhoe, both dressed well to indicate the status they held. Rowan assumed Lord and Lady. There was another gentleman who was perhaps close in age to King Orlon. 

Sitting beside the princess and the Ashryver boy were two other children. A small, dark-haired girl sat beside Aelin, watching Rowan with intelligent and curious eyes. The boy beside Aedion was familiar to Rowan. He had seen the other boy training alongside the Ashryver prince. Aedion tended to win, but that poor other boy didn't know that Aedion had the advantage of Fae blood.

“Prince,” Orlon greeted as he stood, the other adults rising in tandem. “Welcome. Allow me to introduce some of the others of the court. This is Lord Allsbrook and his grandson, Ren.” The older man and the dark-haired boy both bowed respectfully. “And this is Lord and Lady Lochan and their daughter, Elide,” The man bowed while the women curtsied daintily.

Rowan nodded in greeting. He could feel their eyes glued upon him. At this point, Rowan was used to it. Seeing a Fae, especially one like him… Rowan was well-aware that his reputation preceded him.

Rowan seated himself, once again between the king and prince of Terrasen. He got what he expected: questions of his journey and of Doranelle. Again, there wasn't much to report or much that he was willing to divulge. So, he moved the attention back to them.

“How has Aelin been progressing?” Rowan asked.

“Aelin has been progressing very well, thank you for asking,” the princess answered from down the table, even though Rowan had not been speaking to her. “I hear she's been practicing a lot,”

“Aelin,” Evalin scolded in a low voice. 

Aedion tried to hide his laughter behind a napkin but failed miserably. Ren was smiling down at his food and little Elide seemed to be in a mix of shock and amusement at Aelin's quip. Rowan didn't know if her attitude was entertaining or disrespectful, though he knew the two tended to overlap. It wasn't often that someone spoke to him so boldly, both because of his status and power… and yet it was the 9 year-old princess of Terrasen who dared. He had seen men three times her size and age quiver under just his gaze, and yet...

Rowan angled his head towards the young princess, who cut into her roast and pretended not to notice him. 

“Has your shifting improved?” Rowan asked the princess directly this time.

Her bright eyes snapped up to meet his. “Yes,” 

Just to prove it, Aelin screwed her face up in concentration, eyes closing tightly. It took a few heart beats, but a white light flashed through the room and the princess shifted.

Aelin grinned proudly, elongated canines flashing in the candle light. “See?”

She should be able to shift without even thinking about it, but there would be time for fixing her methods later.

“Good to see,” was all the prince said before turning back to his meal. He could practically feel the princess fuming from the other end of the table. 

Five more months…

…

Aelin had wondered if her disdain for Rowan Whitethorn would fade or lessen in the months they were apart. She pondered if she had perhaps imagined his scowls and grumpiness and perhaps he was not as bad as she remembered. But, when she first laid eyes on him as he dismounted his horse once more, she knew she hadn't imagined anything. He didn't smile, didn't laugh. 

She supposed it was foolish to want his approval on her shifting, but she truly had worked hard on it. Her parents had cleared out an old room at the base of the castle that had been used for storage and had transformed it into a training room. By training room, it was just a large, bare stone space. There was nothing and no one to burn or hurt. It allowed Aelin to practice with her magic without causing a forest fire or turning some kind of furniture to ash. She had sat in that room for hours and concentrated on shifting and lighting candles over and over again. She had gained more control over her magic, but every time she used it, Aelin could feel her powers begging for  _ more.  _ It took everything in her to ignore its constant whisper and tingle under her skin.

When Aelin wasn't locked in her training room, she worked with Aedion with sword play and self defense. Her cousin was a good deal bigger and more experienced than her, but he never went easy.

“No one will ever go easy on you because you're small, or a girl, or a princess,” Aedion has explained as he kneeled beside his cousin and helped to clean a scrape on her knee that she had gotten when he knocked her off her feet. “Best not to start now,”

Aelin supposed he was right, but it didn't mean she liked it. She couldn't wait until the day she could kick the snot out of her older cousin. 

But first, she would need to deal with Rowan Whitethorn. 

…

The next morning, Aelin stood by Rowan at one of the many spots in the Oakwald they used to train. She really wished she were anywhere else, especially bed which had been ever so comfortable in those few moments before she remembered her responsibilities for the day. Or maybe curled up on the soft grass in the gardens under the apple tree with her current book… but, she was here.

Rowan crossed his arms over his chest. “Shift,”

Aelin still abhorred his nasty, brutish tone that he used, but obliged anyway. Her eyes screwed up slightly as she concentrated, finding that spot deep inside her, and shifted with only minimal pain. 

Rowan's head bobbed once, the most approval she had ever gotten from him. “You've improved, but you still have a long way to go,”

Aelin made a face. “What else do i need to do? I can shift on command,”

“You take too much time,” Rowan explained. “Shifting needs to be second nature. Those few seconds could mean the difference between life and death,”

“Then I guess I'll just get better,” the princess said simply. 

Rowan resisted the urge to roll his eyes at her overly-simple resolution before reaching into his bag and pulling out a candle. He opened his mouth to tell Aelin to light it, but it would seem the princess was already ahead of him and she created the tiny lick of flame before Rowan could utter anything.

“Good,” he said, quickly extinguishing the fire with his power. He glanced down at the princess, who seemed smug at her accomplishments. “That was just the beginning,”

…

Training Aelin was tedious most of the time. She liked to question everything Rowan said. Sometimes, he felt she just did it to piss him off. She was very good at  _ that  _ at least.

Training her with her magic was a slow process for a long time. She had a hard time releasing tiny bits of her power at a time and would often times release large bursts of flames that charred the trees around them, but even then, as the weeks and months and years passed, the princess would master whatever Rowan threw at her.

As the years went by, Rowan realized the princess did her best work when she was fueled by spite. 

“This technique is advanced, I don't know if you're ready for it,” Rowan would say. 

“I can do it just fine,” Aelin would insist and put forth more effort than normal just to prove him wrong.

By the time she turned thirteen, Aelin had caught on to his methods and would then return his taunts with a colorful array or curse words her cousin had been teaching her… and they were  _ vulgar.  _ Straight from the mouths of soldiers that the Ashryver boy spent much of his time with. 

Part of Rowan had hoped that as she got older. Aelin may become easier to deal with, that her stubbornness was due to her youth, but he wouldn't be so lucky. Her stubbornness grew with age as well as her rebelliousness. 

She would try to skip training, fake sickness. or sneak off to avoid him. 

When Aelin was fifteen and half an hour late for training, Rowan had gone searching through the halls of Orynth for her only the find the princess snug in a little corner with a young courtier, blushing endlessly. That is, until Rowan stood over the two with a storm in his eye. If the boy hadn't pissed himself at the sight of the Fae warrior, Rowan was sure that he was close.

The princess had snarled and cursed at him nonstop when he dragged her away to train, but Rowan managed to ignore her anger, even when she made a vow the she would one day be able to sneak away from him. She had been working on fulfilling that vow for years.

It never worked, but she  _ was  _ getting better and better at it, much to Rowan's chagrin. 

Training with Aelin had its ups and downs. She did seem to have a natural knack for blades and was always more enthusiastic about working with them than her magic. When Aelin had been eleven, she had fallen out of a tree and broke her right wrist, which she had been sure would stop her from training with the longsword they had been working with. Rowan simply told her to use her other hand. It had taken a while, but soon the princess had been able the fight with both hands rather well, and continued to improve.

Maeve was always inquisitive about the girl's progress and Rowan would give just about the same report every time he returned back to Doranelle: she was constantly making progress but she still had a long ways to go. 

Part of Rowan wanted to know why his queen longed so badly for the princess to visit her realm, but it wasn't in Rowan's place to question her wishes. He wasn't even sure how she planned to get the girl over the sea when Evalin and Rhoe still continued to decline all of her offers. 

Evalin and Rhoe had aged greatly in the past eight years.

That was what Rowan thought as he rode up to the walls of Orynth once more. 

He often times forgot what mortality looked like, how quickly time wore on them. Rhoe's hair had gained more streaks of white every time Rowan saw him. The hair at his temples were now almost completely snowy. Evalin's once youthful face was carved with wrinkles. 

Even Orlon now had a full head of grey, steadily thinning hair.

But the Ashryver cousins had also changed greatly. 

Aedion, now twenty-one years old, had grown into an impressive man. Tall, perhaps only an inch shorter than Rowan, and had become broad and strong. The Fae prince had heard whispers of the Ashryver boy all the way in Doranelle. The Wolf of the North, they called him, for his prowess in battle. Though Terrasen lived in peace, there had been a few border scuffles in which Aedion Ashryver earned his reputation as a fearsome warrior. He looked even more like Gavriel now, his golden hair reaching his shoulders. At the moment, in an attempt to look nice, the Ashryver boy had it tied back to keep it out of its face. He wore a fine tunic that marked his status as a prince of the Ashryver house, a status that many people forgot.

And then there was Aelin.

She stood beside her cousin, the top of her head just reaching over his shoulder. Her face still held on to some of its childish roundness, but she was only sixteen. She wore a deep green gown with her hair pinned up gracefully, a golden circlet resting on her brow. She seemed less than thrilled to be standing there, eyeing Rowan with a disdain he had grown used to in the past years. He had also gotten used to ignoring it. 

They went through a routine that Rowan had gotten used to: pleasantries, being led to his room, dining, questioning. The questioning was done in a political way that made it seem like it wasn't quite an interrogation, but it practically was. They asked about Doranelle and Maeve, Rowan asked about Aelin's progress. By this time, he knew better than to ask her uncle or father and instead hear it straight from her.

“Your shielding?” Rowan asked, slicing into the roast on the table before him.

“Practically perfect,” Aelin said, smirking around a mouthful of roasted vegetables.

By this time, Aelin had her fire under control. No more outbursts of flames when agitated or upset. They had built up her skills in handling her flame bit by bit. It began with lighting that damned candle, then starting and tending fires, then extinguishing a blaze or making it larger and smaller. She had surprised the Fae warrior when she was twelve when he had returned and found the girl now could conjure shapes out of her flames. By the time she had turned fifteen, they had begun to work on using her fire as a weapon, starting with defense. 

He had pissed her off enough during the first few days of learning to shield that Aedion had complained he had heard Aelin screeching all the way in his rooms. She had cursed at him for all the tiny nicks and cuts that had scattered across her arms from the tiny daggers of ice he had thrown at her to get her to shield properly. He had healed them away when they were done, an ability that Aelin hadn't even known he had.

“Show me how to do that,” she had said, watching as her flesh knit itself back together before her eyes. 

“Later,” Rowan had replied. “When you can shield perfectly, then I will teach you how to heal,”

Aelin's lip had curled in distaste but, surprisingly, she didn't argue it. 

“Honestly, Prince,” Aedion piped up, taking a long draught of his wine. “she's getting too good. Last time I pissed her off, she held a bit of fire up to my face and threatened to burn off my eyebrows,”

“You rightly deserved that one, mate,” Ren Allsbrook said from beside Aedion.

The dark-haired boy had also grown through the years. He was tall and lanky, but moved lithely in battle with the two long knives that he favored. He was a strong fighter and would only get better, especially if he continued to fight and train alongside Aedion. The pair had joined him and the princess during training a handful of times to give Aelin people to spar against that were not a three hundred year old Fae warrior. The girl managed to hold her own for longer and longer every time they fought. Rowan had to begrudgingly admit that she was making good progress despite her horrendous attitude. 

“I surely hope no one  _ saw  _ you behaving like that, daughter,” Rhoe said, raising a brow at the princess.

Aelin smiled sweetly. “Of course not, father,”

Rowan stopped himself from shaking his head at Aelin, who seemed could get away with anything in the halls of Orynth. She probably hated him because he didn't put up with her shenanigans. 

When Rowan looked up, Aelin's eyes were on him with a look that seemed to say  _ If you piss me off I can singe off your brows, too. _

_ You can try, princess. _

…

Rowan Whitethorn hadn't changed in all these years.

Aelin shouldn't be surprised. He was immortal after all, but it was still… strange, to say the least. Perhaps the only difference was that his silver hair had grown longer. He was still always pissy, always glowering, his tattoo as dark and harsh as the day Aelin first laid eyes on it. 

“Have you heard the news from Adarlan?” Orlon said from the head of the table.

“I'm afraid not,” Rowan said. “News was scarce on my travels,”

“The eldest prince, Dorian Havilliard, has raw magic,” 

Aelin had known this. She had met Dorian on a few occasions, the first being right before Rowan Whitethorn first arrived. The prince of Adarlan had spilt tea on her dress and she had set Aedion after him. To this day, Dorian was still wary of her cousin. 

Dorian had visited Terrasen once or twice more over the years just as Aelin had visited Adarlan. They were mostly diplomatic trips that didn't leave much room for fun or exploring the city, but she spent time with Dorian and his friend, Chaol. They had become good friends of hers during the times they tried to fight off the boredom of being confined to the halls of the glass castle, which tended to still make Aelin uneasy. She and Dorian corresponded often. They traded book recommendations as well as tales of woe of being a young royal. She was probably the first one to know about his magic.

“Truly?” Rowan asked, brows raising slightly. 

“Aye, the king has just announced it publicly,” Rhoe added.

“How will he learn?” Evalin mused. “There are not many individuals blessed with raw magic to teach him,”

Aelin knew Dorian was having a hard time learning to hone and control his magic. He had told her that he had accidentally made a window shatter when his younger brother was being particularly devilish. So, to make him feel better. Aelin wrote him about all the things she had accidentally set on fire when she was learning to control her power.

She supposed she was lucky to have Rowan as a teacher, even though he was a bastard. He understood her power. Dorian would have a difficult time learning on his own.

Aelin's thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of a booted foot lifting up the edge of her gown and running up the length of her calf. 

Her eyes flickered away from Rowan and landed on Ren who had the barest wisp of a smirk on his lips. Aelin bit down on the inside of her cheek and fought to keep the blush that threatened to bloom across her cheeks in check. 

Aelin, never in a million years, would have expected that she would be fooling around with Ren Allsbrook but… here she was. 

In retrospect, Aelin could see that  _ something  _ was bound to happen between them sometime in their life. 

Ren lived in Orynth most of the time to ensure he got the best training. His sisters were at a school near the border of Terrasen and Adarlan to learn about the magic they had inherited. His father and grandfather lived in and governed their territory, which meant that Ren spent most of his time outside training with Aelin and Aedion. 

They all tended to have a good time together, trying to outrun responsibilities. They would escape into the Oakwald and spend the day climbing trees or swimming in the countless littles pools that were scattered around the forest, or perhaps searching for the Little Folk who would leave little presents for them when they weren't looking. 

So, Aelin tended to spend a good amount of time with Ren Allsbrook. 

Perhaps she shouldn't have been surprised when he had kissed her. 

It had been after a party that had been thrown for her uncle Orlon's birthday. Aedion had slunk off with a pretty brunette half an hour earlier, leaving the other two alone to fend for themselves. They ended up slipping away from the slowly dying party and instead chose to wander the gardens. Ren managed to steal an entire bottle of wine and allowed Aelin to have a few sips here and there, even though she demanded more. After spending so much time with her, Ren and Aedion tended to be immune to her temper and orders. Well… for the most part because Aelin had managed to talk Ren into allowing her to braid and twist flowers into his shaggy hair that night. He had looked ridiculous and Aelin had laughed herself nearly hoarse.

“Stop laughing,” Ren had said, though he was smiling as well. “you did this!”

“It just looks so good!” Aelin had snorted, clutching her stomach as she was overwhelmed with giggles.

“Stop laughing!” 

“Make me, you brute,”

Then, he had leaned forward and kissed her. 

It hadn't been more than a peck at first, at it had surprised her. It wasn't that Aelin hadn't kissed someone before, she had (there were plenty of handsome young men wandering the halls or Orynth), but she hadn't expected  _ Ren  _ to do that. 

He had pulled away, his deep brown eyes studying her. “Was that bad?”

Aelin blinked away her lingering shock and then shook her head. “No,”

“Can I do it again?”

“Yes,”

And so, they had spent most of that night in the garden, just kissing, and Aelin found that she had enjoyed herself. She liked the feeling of his hands in her hair as she laid down on the soft grass in the gardens, she liked how her heart raced and jumped. Ren was a handful of years older, which led to him being a rather good kisser. 

And, since that night, they had begun to sneak around together. Aelin wasn't in love with Ren, gods no, and he wasn't in love with her, but she had fun. She liked the rush she felt when he bit her bottom lip, when his hands tightened on her sides, or when he kissed tiny marks into her shoulders that she would have to make sure were hidden the next day, because no one could know.

_ Especially  _ not Aedion.

If her cousin found out that Ren, one of his closest friends, was running around behind his back and ‘violating’ (as Aelin was sure he would call it) his little cousin, things would not go well. 

Luckily for them at the moment, Aedion was too busy ogling Prince Rowan to notice their exchange, because he would have most definitely noted the look Ren was giving her that suggested that Aelin would likely find her way to his chambers some time tonight.

Aelin still kept her maidenhood. They had yet to take that final step, but Ren had showed her other ways to enjoy herself which she took the fullest advantage of.

And so, Aelin moved her attention back to her plate, in a slightly better mood than she was when she saw Rowan Whitethorn again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you guys like this! This story is ending up much longer than anticipated. I have 108 pages written so far and there isn't even any pining yet.


	5. Chapter 5

Aelin was five minutes late.

It wasn't the latest she had ever been, but it still managed to piss Rowan off first thing in the morning. 

She was probably oversleeping. There had been times she had been so stubborn that even her ladies in waiting couldn't manage to drag her out of bed that Rowan resorted to sending a gust of wind so strong that it had literally rolled the princess out of bed. And, when Aelin refused to get off the damned floor, Rowan would drop the temperature in her room until she finally gave it.

He really didn't want to resort to that his first day back.

He was about to give in and go searching through the stone halls for the princess but then he heard rapid footfalls coming his direction. He looked over his shoulder and saw the princess of Terrasen sprinting in his direction while simultaneously attempting to finish braiding her hair.

“I'm here!” she said, face flushed from rushing.

Rowan ran a critical eye over her. Her tunic wasn't on straight, her boots weren't laced properly, and she had large chunks of her hair missing from her braid. She looked like she had rolled out of bed and got dressed in the dark.

Rowan sniffed, his top lips curling slightly. Gods, she smelled like she had bathed in jasmine perfume. It was so strong it nearly made his eyes water. What the rutting hell had she been thinking?

“I don't look that bad, do I?” Aelin asked upon seeing the look on his face.

Rowan’s eyes narrowed slightly as the girl shifted and tossed her long braid over her shoulder.

“So, what are we doing today?” Aelin pressed.

“Running,” 

Aelin raised a brow. “Like sprints?” Rowan had liked to incorporate those into her training. He usually made her do those in her human form.

The Fae prince shook his head. “No. Running, full speed through the Oakwald until I say we stop, in your Fae form,”

“Well, that's a new one,” Aelin said as she began to stretch her legs. “What spurred on this wonderful idea?”

“You're grown enough now to handle the challenge,” Rowan stated truthfully. He wanted her to be able to keep up with him, which would be hard for her to do when she was young and small. “Just try and keep up,”

He turned heel and sprinted away from the gates of Orynth. He heard the princess curse under her breath before she took off after him. 

Let's see if her arrogance had any merit.

…

Aelin knew she could run fast in her Fae form, but she had never really tested her limits. She felt as though she was going faster and faster with each step, flying through the tangled trees of the Oakwald like the winds. It was exhilarating, her heart leaping and bounding as she chased after Rowan's figure. He was faster than he had any right to be.

She had thought he had scented through the perfume she had worn, even though she used an obscene amount to hide the evidence of who she was with the night before. What she did with Ren in her own time was none of Rowan's business. Aelin was starting to think that a Fae's sense of smell was just  _ too  _ good sometimes. When she was in her Fae form, she could smell when Aedion had found his way into someone's bed the night before. She had walked into breakfast and had smelled  _ her parents  _ on one another, which had been horrifying. So, now Aelin tended to come to breakfast only in her human form to avoid learning more than she would want. 

She was falling behind.

Aelin picked up the speed, feet thundering against the forest floor, spraying up dead leaves and dirt with each step. 

She didn't know how far they had run, or how much further they had to go, but the princess felt as though she could run until she reached the sea. Sometime ago, her braid had whipped free, leaving her golden hair to curl behind her like streamers.

Rowan’s silver hair was a beacon in the dimness of the forest. He was getting further and further away from her, no matter how fast she felt she ran. Her arms pumped harder and harder but it didn't help her catch up. The next thing she knew, she lost him. 

Aelin slowed down, brows furrowed as she listened carefully, trying to pick out the sound of his footfalls, but just heard the sounds of the Oakwald. 

How could he just disappear like that? Her Fae ears should've been able to hear  _ something.  _

Aelin firmly planted her hands on her hips and cursed lightly, spinning in her place and casting a sweeping glance around the towering trees. She had never been this deep in the forest before. She hoped she would be able to find her way back. 

“You're still slow,”

Aelin started at the voice that sounded from behind her, lashing out with a wave of cobalt flames which Rowan shielded away before she could do any serious damage. 

When Aelin spun around to face him, she could have sworn there was a hint of surprise in his eyes. 

“Why would you sneak up on me like that?!” Aelin demanded.

“Because you need to be aware of your surroundings,”

“I normally can tell when someone is coming up behind me when I'm in my Fae form,” Aelin said. “I can hear or scent them,”

“You don't interact with Fae enough,” Rowan stated. “Fae footfalls are near silent,”

“I still should have been able to scent you,”

“I used my winds to blow my scent down wind,”

Aelin's lips pursed in annoyance, crossing her arms stubbornly. “How the hell am I supposed to defend against that?”

“Know your enemy,” Rowan advised. “and be ready for anything,”

A blink later, a small throwing dagger of ice was flying in Aelin's direction, but it disappeared in hissing steam before it could knick the princess.

Aelin's shield of fire slowly fizzled out as she lowered her arms, raising a brow at the prince.  _ That's all you got? _

Rowan shook his head slightly.  _ Brat. _

“Your shielding has improved,” Rowan managed to ground out.

“Now you can hold up your end of the deal,”

Rowan’s eyes narrowed in question.

“Last year you said that if I mastered shielding you would show me how to heal,” 

“That I did,” Rowan said with a tiny sigh before jerking his head deeper in the forest. “Let's go,”

…

Rowan led the princess to a fallen tree where they could sit during the lesson. She actually seemed ready to listen for once, much to Rowan’s surprise.

“Fae naturally heal faster than mortals,” Rowan began. “Some Fae and mortals are blessed with magic that it purely healing, but most Fae have innate healing magic. Nothing as powerful as those blessed by Silba, but enough to heal small cuts or to speed up healing broken bones. The more powerful the Fae, the more control they have over their healing abilities. The water affinity you inherited from your mother should also amplify your healing skills,”

Aelin's head bobbed as she absorbed the knowledge Rowan was giving her. She watched as he rolled up the sleeve of his tunic, baring his forearm.

“What happened there?” Aelin said, pointing out a particularly nasty, puckered scar on the tanned skin of his arm.

“I was taken prisoner during a war many years ago by our enemies,” Rowan explained, glancing down at the scar himself. “Wrapped in iron, strapped to a table for two weeks, and tortured for information. This is from one of their more advanced methods,”

“You say that awfully casually,” Aelin noted.

“You don't seem surprised,”

Aelin waved a dismissive hand through the air. “Please, at this point, I feel like I know everything about you. Aedion is full of stories about you. He once told me you killed a war lord with a table. Is that true?”

“Yes,”

“Did you squish him to death like a grape?”

Rowan glanced at her like she had grown another head. “No. I broke the leg and impaled him,”

For a moment, Rowan wondered if he was being too morbid. He was talking to a sixteen year-old princess and not one of his soldiers and he had already breached the subjects of torture and impaling people, but Aelin didn't seem rather bothered by it. In fact, she seemed rather interested.

“Resourceful,” Aelin nodded. 

“I thought you wanted to know about healing,”

“I do. Continue,”

Rowan let out a tiny sigh and pulled a shining silver dagger out of his boot. He held the edge of the blade over his arm before making a shallow slice, the scent of his own blood filling the air. He heard the young princess sniff as well, but he didn't know how she could smell anything over that damned perfume.

“You have to reach down into an old, primal part of your power,” Rowan explained, holding his tattooed hand over the cut her created. “and envision yourself healing,” 

His skin quickly knitted itself back together, leaving nothing behind but a light pink line of new skin.

Aelin inhaled deeply before rolling up her own sleeve. She snatched the dagger from Rowan, entirely surprising him. She had been getting faster, more lithe, with each day they trained. The wave of flame she had attacked him with today had been powerful and quick. It could have shattered a lesser Fae’s shields. She hadn't been close to that level when he had last left her. 

Before Rowan could say anything, the girl had made a shallow cut on her own arm.

Rowan winced slightly as the smell of her blood reached him. “You didn't have to do it to yourself,”

Aelin gave a tiny shrug. “It didn't hurt,”

“Perhaps not but I do not believe your parents would be very pleased if they knew I let you hurt yourself,”

“Then I won't tell them,” Aelin said as if it were obvious. “Now, be quiet so I can concentrate,”

A small growl echoed in the back of Rowan’s throat at her tone, but she thoroughly ignored him, face screwing up in focus. Rowan looked at the cut on her arm as the princess took a deep breath and called forth her power. It took a bit longer than Rowan, but soon her flesh came together and elation shone on Aelin's face.

She held her arm out before her face, running an exploratory finger over where she had just bled.

“I did it,” she breathed, almost as if she couldn't believe it. She wiped away the blood that lingered on her arm, unable to look away from the small strip of pink skin.

“When I was younger, all I wanted to do was be a healer,” Aelin murmured. “I begged and begged my mother to take me to see the healers of the Torre Cesme in the Southern Continent… but we never went. Future queens can't be healers,”

Rowan hadn't expected the princess to say anything like that, to share that tiny piece of her life. They never spoke about anything that wasn't training. The princess even seemed surprised by what she had said, judging by the way her face as shifted. Confused and surprised.

“I haven't been to the Southern Continent,” Rowan said. “but the Fae healers compound in Doranelle is a sight to be seen. They can perform miracles,”

Aelin's head whipped towards him, brows knitting together. “That's the first time you've ever said something about Doranelle to me,”

_ So what? _ His face seemed to say.

Aelin shifted on the fallen tree into a more comfortable position. “The first few times we trained, my parents wanted to know what you said to me about Doranelle or Maeve. I think they thought that Maeve had ordered you to try and convince me to come to Doranelle by telling me all about it and make me want to visit,”

Rowan supposed it wasn't something that was completely outlandish. They all knew that Maeve wanted Aelin to come to Doranelle… but his queen hadn't given him any such order. Just to train her. 

“I told them that you wouldn't do anything of the sort because you might go mad if you had to spend any extra time with me,” Aelin finished.

Rowan felt the corners of his lips tug slightly upward. Indeed. 

The Fae prince pushed up from the fallen log and looked down at Aelin.

“Come on, princess. We're not done for today,”

Aelin sighed and stood, brushing off her trousers. 

“Back to the castle,” Rowan ordered. “I'll give you a head start so you don't end up slowing me down,”

Aelin scowled at him before taking off in the direction of the fortress. 

And, as the sound of Aelin's footsteps faded into the distance, Rowan felt as though he had a slightly better understanding of the princess.

…

Well, at least Rowan had thought he an understanding. Two days later, Aelin was back to being a cranky brat.

She had shown up nearly twenty minutes late to training, once again smelling heavily of jasmine perfume. 

“You're late. Again,” Rowan had snapped. “Do you need me to send a nursemaid to wake you up in the morning?”

Aelin snarled at him, a clear reminder of that untamed Fae blood that ran through her veins. “Sorry I'm not a cranky three hundred year old who wakes up at the crack of dawn,”

That whole exchange probably turned their day sour. And it only got worse from there. 

Now that Aelin had a handle on her shielding, they were able to move onto offence, which proved to be tricky to the young princess. She had a difficult time aiming her arrows of flame or keeping the daggers of fire from sizzling out before they reached their target. This led to Rowan sharply shooting criticisms at her and the princess getting more and more pissed off. 

“You're not concentrating,” Rowan scolded as the princess missed her target once again. 

Aelin glared at him. “Could you say something positive for once or would that kill you?”

“Do something worth praise and you'll get it,”

Aelin clenched her jaw and turned back to her target. “You're a prick,” 

“At least I'm not behaving like a child,”

Aelin groaned and launched another dagger of fire, this time hitting dead center. Perfect. But, the princess didn't take time to observe her skill, or even to gloat as he expected, instead whirling back towards Rowan, planting her hands on her hips and marching towards him.

“Listen, I get that you probably hate taking months out of your life to train me, but it wasn't my rutting choice either,” Aelin spat. “So stop taking it out on me,”

“Watch your tongue,”

“Gods, what is your problem with me?!”

Rowan crossed his arms over his chest and peered down at Aelin. “You've done nothing but act like a spoiled, bratty child since the day I met you,”

“Because you've done nothing but treat me like a spoiled, bratty child!” Aelin burst out, nearly yelling, and pointed at the center of his chest. “How else am I going to act if that's how I've been treated for eight years? How are you going to see me as anything other than how you want to see me?”

Her question hung in the air. Rowan hadn't been expecting the outburst, nor the rage blazing in her turquoise eyes. 

Aelin shook her head slowly, lips pressed together into a thin line. “You're just a bastard. A bastard who likes to take his misery out on others, but I'm not going to take it anymore,”

She held onto his gaze for a moment longer before swiftly turning heels and storming back to Orynth.

Rowan was bewildered and pissed off. There weren't many people who would speak to him as boldly as Aelin had, who would get in his face and raise their voice… but a sixteen year-old princess did. Part of him was almost impressed, but he was more offended by how she had spoken to him.

He just knew the both of them needed time to cool off.

So, in a flash, Rowan shifted and took to the skies, content to use the cold northern winds to sail over the Oakwald and the Staghorns for the afternoon.

…

By the time Rowan decided to return to the halls of Orynth, it was late afternoon, the sun beginning its descent, painting the sky warm yellows and pinks. 

He had cooled off enough after today's situation with Aelin after flying through the mountains. He had actually had enjoyed himself. The winds were fast and strong and refreshingly cold. Rowan supposed it was something he had grown to like in Terrasen.

But, as Rowan dipped down and headed for the balcony, he heard yelling and arguing and angry curses. He recognized the voices. Aedion, Ren, and Aelin. The boys still wore their training leathers while Aelin had changed into a simple black dress. Whatever was happening didn't sound pretty.

Rowan banked towards the sounds of their arguments, until he was close enough to see that they weren't just arguing. Aedion and Ren were brawling, just outside the Oakwald. He circled above them, just observing, trying to figure out what it was all about.

“Aedion, get off of him!” Aelin screeched from the sides as she watched the two males tussle. 

“You heard her,” Ren ground out, struggling against Aedion, who had him pinned to the ground.

“Shut your rutting mouth!” Aedion snapped. “I found you with your hands up my cousin's skirts, you're lucky you're not dead yet.”

Rowan had no idea that the princess was involved with the Allsbrook boy, but it would explain why she wore all that perfume. She was trying to hide the scent from him. He supposed it would make sense for her to do something like that. It fit in her human sensibilities. To them, things like that were private… and they obviously hadn't shared the news with others if Aedion was just finding out about it. The Fae never hid scent after taking a new lover. It was letting others know when they were involved with someone, and that they and their new lover were now off limits.

“It's none of your rutting business, Aedion!” Aelin growled through clenched teeth.

It seemed Aelin's words managed to distract her cousin enough that Ren was able to tuck his legs to his chest and kick Aedion off of him. The Ashryver boy was on his feet again within a heartbeat, turning back towards his opponent, expecting to find Ren but instead found his cousin. And he was very unprepared when her fist shot out and caught him in his nose.

But the princess didn't stop there. She swung at her cousin again, but Aedion was ready this time and managed to parry it away, but his cousin was already coming at him again.

“Aelin…” Aedion breathed, ducking under one of her blows.

The Ashryvers were a sight to behold from above. Flashes of golden hair against lush green grass as they moved and fought. Aedion had grown used to being the only one with the advantage of Fae swiftness, but now he had an opponent with the same advantages as him.

Rowan was impressed with how Aelin moved, watching as she kicked out a leg to knock him off his feet, missing only by an inch. It was good to see that her training was paying off. Rowan could have watched the two go at it for a while longer, but the sound of their snarling and cursing brought him out of his trance. Two gifted beings with Fae blood, when angry, could lead to one of them getting very hurt if they couldn't control themselves.

Rowan swooped down towards the group below just as Aelin and Aedion lunged for each other once more. However, the cousins never exchanged blows and instead found themselves flying backwards and landing on their asses a safe distance from one another, courtesy of Rowan's winds.

Rowan shifted as he landed between the cousins, eyes narrowed and teeth bared. A display of dominance, what might be the only action that could get through to the two demi-Fae while they were in this frenzy.

“Enough,” Rowan snarled, looking back and forth between the Ashryver cousins. Aedion's face was screwed in anger as he wiped a trail of blood from under his nose with the back of his hand. Aelin's eyes hadn't left her cousin, watching him carefully as she tried to catch her breath as if she expected his to spring at any moment. Aedion should consider himself lucky that Aelin's fire hadn't made an appearance during their scuffle.

“You two,” Rowan snapped at Aedion and Ren. “Go find somewhere to cool off. Now,”

The look on Aedion's face told Rowan that he he didn't appreciate being ordered around, but the slight clenching of Rowan’s jaw told the boy that he was serious. Aedion spat on the ground as he stood, following Rowan's orders, knowing that getting in a fight with the Fae warrior would only lead to his inevitable defeat.  

The boys stalked off in opposite directions,  Rowan keeping a sharp eye on them until they were out of sight, leaving him alone with the princess. He glanced down and found her kneeling on the ground, fingers clenched into tight fists in her lap. She was studying her split knuckles before she reached out a hand and healed the broken skin.

“If you're going to scold me I'm  _ really  _ not in the mood,” Aelin grumbled.

“I have nothing to scold you about. You warned him, he didn't listen, and you defended. It follows the Old Ways,” Rowan explained. There was a beat of silence before he spoke again. “You fought well. I'm impressed,”

The girl froze, as if she couldn't believe what she was hearing. She slowly looked up towards Rowan, who offered up his tattooed hand to help her off the ground. Aelin studied it for a moment, as if it might be a trick, before tentatively reaching out and grasping his hand. Rowan easily hauled her from the ground, the girl brushing blades of grass off her skirts.

“Thank you,” Aelin said quietly, still contemplating him as if he may be a shifter who had taken his form.

“Your cousin seemed surprised,” Rowan stated. “Have you never sparred with him before?”

“I have,” Aelin said. “But he has never sparred me when I was  _ that  _ pissed off,” there was question lingering in her eyes. “Are all of your kind such insufferable, territorial Fae bastards?”

“Some worse than others,” Rowan admitted.

“Gods, I can't take him sometimes,” Aelin said, tightly crossing her arms over her chest. “He rutting glowers at any male that looks at me too long. Takes away nearly all my fun,”

“He has Fae blood,” Rowan said. Far more Fae blood than she knew, even. “it's how he is,”

They faded into silence, unsure of what to say after she had stormed away from training earlier today. Rowan had plenty of time to think about her words this afternoon, mulling on them over and over, until he had reached a conclusion.

“I apologize for how I spoke to you this afternoon,” Rowan said sincerely.

Aelin blinked once, as if she hadn't heard him correctly. 

“Apology accepted,” Aelin said. “I apologize for being late for training this morning. My parents held me back after breakfast. They had… important manners to discuss with me,”

Rowan could tell from her tone that she was telling the truth, though not the complete truth. Whatever her parents had discussed with her wasn't something Rowan needed to know about.

“Why didn't you just tell me that?” Rowan asked.

She met his eyes. “Because it would have sounded like an excuse,”

Aelin was partially right. Rowan, this morning, might have taken what she said as a flimsy excuse to have responsibility taken off her. She had been completely right. No matter what she did, Rowan had always seen her actions as that of a spoiled child. She couldn't win then. She could have saved an entire kingdom and Rowan would've thought she did it for attention. But now… Rowan would do better.

“You're nearly mature now, princess,” Rowan said. “I suppose it's time I began treating you as such,”

Aelin looked slightly surprised. “Thank you, prince. I suppose I should start to treat you like someone who crosses the ocean and takes months of their life to train me, and I should begin to show my gratitude,”

Now it was Rowan’s turn to be surprised. He hadn't expected any of that to come out of Aelin's mouth. 

The princess stuck out her hand towards him. “Truce?”

Rowan took in her outstretched hand, the fragile hope on her face. It didn't take very long until he reached out and grasped her hand before giving a firm shake.

“Truce,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> new chapter! hope you guys enjoyed. Also, if any of yall wanna follow my art Instagram its @jgs_draws. I do a fair amount of SJM art that maybe yall have seen floating around before:)


	6. Chapter 6

Things were… easier after than.

Rowan wasn't quite sure if that was a good thing.

Sure, they weren't at each other's throats every minute of the day. They still snipped at one another a few times a session but nothing as volatile as before.

But now… Aelin was so  _ talkative _ . 

She had endless curiosity and an endless supply of questions. Every waking moment when she was in his company, Aelin was asking him questions.

She wanted to know about his  _ cadre _ , as she called it. She had heard stories from Aedion but wanted to see if they were true or simply faerie tales.

“Is it true that Lorcan Salvaterre is the only other male in the world that can challenge your power?” Aelin asked as they walked through the Oakwald to where they would be training that day, testing her balance by walking along a thin, fallen trunk.

“Yes,”

“How old is he?”

“Over five hundred,”

“Five hundred?!” Aelin repeated, dropping to the forest floor on feather-soft feet. “So old. He must be as grumpy as you,”

“Worse,”

Aelin snorted out a laugh. “Are all your friends so irritable?”

“No. Gavriel tends to be patient,” Rowan felt strange talking about the Lion so casually. The girl didn't know he had sired her cousin. “He manages to keep us from killing one another when we're pissed off…”

“What of the twin wolves?” Aelin questioned, casually letting little sparks and embers to twist and dive between her nimble fingers.

“Connall and Fenrys,” Rowan said, glancing at the princess from the corner of his eye. “You would get along with Fenrys,”

“Is he as funny and intelligent and interesting as I am?”

“He's just as arrogant and modest as you are,” Rowan sighed, hearing the girl snicker from beside him. “You two would probably smother everyone with your egos,”

Aelin tossed her head back with a wicked laugh. “I pity you if you have to deal with the both of us,”

“Aye, I'd pity myself too,”

She seemed to want to know nearly everything about the Fae, about that primal and powerful part of herself. 

They had been walking through the halls of Orynth after training, the girl intent on getting something to eat, but quelling her curiosity of the trip.

“How does the blood oath work?” Aelin asked.

“Someone swears fealty to another and drinks their blood-” 

“Yeah, I know that,” Aelin said, waving a hand through the air. “How does the… ordering work? What does it feel like?”

“Like a tug,” Rowan described. “An unbreakable tug for me and my  _ cadre  _ as you like to call them, but it varies by who its between, what it's based on,”

Aelin nodded slowly. “So, when Aedion takes the oath, and we get in an argument which is bound to happen and I tell him to go to hell, what then? Will he just wander around the continent forever trying to find hell?”

Rowan snorted softly and shook his head. “No. You need to enact the oath. You can't accidentally order him to do something like that,”

“Lucky for Aedion,” 

The girl glanced away from him and down the hall. He heard her intake a small breath and followed her eye line, finding the Allsbrook boy walking their way, but he simply gave a respectful nod towards them, which Aelin returned. Not quite how Rowan would expect two people involved with one another to behave. 

Rowan tried to pick apart the small interaction, understand what it meant, but he didn't have to wait long. As soon as the boy was out of earshot, Aelin spoke.

“I ended it with him,”

“Because of Aedion?”

Aelin scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Aedion can’t make me do anything. Besides, he was over it by dinner that night. They had an ale drinking contest and I had to watch as they vomited their guts out later,”

“I would have thought he could hold his liquor,”

“They both can, which is why they drank so much. It might have killed someone who wasn't born and bred in the North… or Fae, probably,”

“Indeed,”

…

Aelin enjoyed the truce she and Rowan had form. It made her detest him less.

He still didn't talk much, only when she pried. Which she did often. For once, not with the intent to bother him but rather because she was genuinely curious. Rowan was old, as she liked to point out, and he knew and had experienced many things.

He didn't go any easier on her in training. In fact, she felt he was maybe pushing her harder. She did extra reps over and over until he was certain she had perfected the technique. And she didn't complain. She had surprised him once when Rowan had said they were finished for the day, but she had urged him for more. She hadn't felt like she quite had it yet. There was a glimmer of something in Rowan’s eyes at her request. Not quite pride but maybe… approval? He didn't voice it but Aelin swore she saw it there. 

Yes, Aelin was quite content with their situation. In fact, as she breezed through the halls for her morning training, she didn't feel the heavy dread that she used to feel every morning when heading towards the gates.

Rowan was standing just outside the gates with his immortal stillness that Aelin wondered if she would ever achieve. As she grew and her powers and skills developed, the whispers grew more and more frequent. That her Fae side was powerful and dominant, that it was highly likely that she would Settle. The reality that she would become immortal had yet to fully sink in, but the possibility still hung there.

Aelin stopped beside her mentor, ready to go. But, before she could chirp a good morning, the tang on blood reached her nose. Her eyes darted to Rowan’s wrist.

“You're bleeding,”

The Fae prince lifted his tattooed hand before smearing away the blood. “It's nothing,” he said. “I was filling in the tattoo earlier,”

Aelin's head cocked to the side. “You do those yourself?”

Rowan nodded.

“How'd you learn how to do that?”

“When I was young, my commander would tattoo the men of the war camp I was stationed at,” he began. “I begged him to teach me,”

“I can't picture you young,” Aelin stated. “Or begging for anything,”

Aelin studied the tattoo, the harsh yet elegant lines that spelled out a story that she couldn't understand. She couldn't speak or read the old language. Aedion seemed convinced it was a list or the foes that Rowan had killed, but Aelin wasn't so sure. Part of her wanted to just ask him, but even Aelin felt like that would be too blunt of a question for a male that hardly shared anything personal. She wished she could understand… but, maybe she could. 

Before Aelin could properly flesh out her plan, Rowan jerked his head and bade her to follow. She shook herself slightly before starting after the silver-haired prince, ready for whatever he would throw at her.

…

Training was tough today. Rowan had actually sparred her, which he hadn't done before. He normally asked Aedion or Ren to come and help out when she was younger and smaller, but they didn't have magic. Today, it was her magic against his.

She had been thrown on her ass so many times she had lost count. Rowan moved unlike anything she had ever seen before in her life. He always knew where she would strike next and no matter how swift she was, he was quicker. Nimble and lithe, it was a beautiful sight to watch him fight, even if it led to Aelin getting the snot kicked out of her. She would pay good money to see Rowan fight someone with his skill, like Lorcan Salvaterre. It would be a beautiful dance of death. 

By the time they finished, Aelin was thoroughly exhausted. Rowan had to haul her off the ground where she was sprawled after he had knocked her feet clean out from under her. 

“It will get easier,” Rowan comforted.

“It better,” Aelin groaned, rubbing at her shoulders. She glanced at the Fae warrior out of the corner of her eye. “who knows. Next time you come back I might just be able to knock you on  _ your  _ ass,”

“You can most certainly try, princess,”

…

The moment Aelin was free of her training responsibilities, she headed straight for the library.

The library of Orynth was the largest on the continent, and her favorite place in the palace. She had been thrilled when she had shown enough control of her power that the librarians allowed her back within the cavernous hall. 

By now, the old librarians had grown used to her presence among the shelves. They didn't mind her as long as she was quiet. A few of them were rather fond of her, actually, and would share books with her and let the princess know when they got new novels that she may enjoy.

So, when Aelin strutted through the towering oak doors, she made a beeline towards the head librarian, a withered old man with a white beard that nearly reached his navel. Aelin wondered if head librarians were chosen by who had the most wrinkles because his deep brown skin was carved impossibly deep with them. He may have been older than Rowan.

“Good evening, your highness,” he spoke, his voice soft. “what can I do for you?”

“Do you have any books on the Old Language of the Fae?”

The old man blinked slowly, bushy brows bunching together. “The Old Language? Not many on this continent speak it…” he trailed off, accessing the immense knowledge stored in his head. “Give me a few moments, princess,”

The head librarian shuffled off through the stacks, leaving Aelin to peruse the shelves at her leisure. Even with the amount of time Aelin spent hidden between the towering stacks of paper and ink, there was always something new to see. She wished she could read every copy in the library, but she felt as though she wouldn't ever reach that goal, even if she lived as long as Rowan Whitethorn.

Aelin lost track of how long she spent gazing at weathered, leather spines of the books around her, plucking out volumes that caught her eye, before she heard slow footsteps brushing against the stone floors coming towards her.

Aelin slipped a rather passionate romance novel back into its spot, finding the head librarian lumbering towards her, thin arms weighed down by a stack of books that hid his face from him. Aelin rushed forward to assist him before the weight of the books snapped him in half.

“Thank you, your highness,” he breathed as the princess placed the books on a well-worn table. “Sometimes I wished I too had Fae strength,”

Aelin brushed a hand against her pointed ear, forgetting that she hadn't shifted back to her human form after training. “I'm sure it would be an excellent advantage for a librarian,”

The old man gave a tiny snort. “That it would,” he motioned towards the thick tomes on the table. “This is what I could find at short notice. I'm sure there are more deep in the archives, but this should give you a good start, an understanding of the basics,”

“Thank you,” Aelin said, grabbing the books provided for her.

“Good luck,”

…

Over the next month, Aelin split her time between training and studying. Her days were spent learning to fight with Rowan, her evenings and nights spent learning the Old Language.

She found the Old Language was rather complicated. The lettering was intricate and precise, unlike anything she had ever seen. She would stay up late in the night, reading by candle light until she couldn't keep her eyes open any longer. She had woken up slumped over in her desk, face pressed into thick paper on a handful of occasions.

But, though it was tricky, Aelin felt as though she was getting the hang of it. Slowly, but she'd get there.

She had stayed up rather late the night before, and it had been wearing her down all through her training the next morning. Rowan noted her fatigue, but didn't say anything, rather just allowing her more opportunities to rest and gulp down some water.

Aelin wiped at her sweaty face with the sleeve of her tunic, sitting down beside Rowan on the edge of a creek while the Fae prince refilled a skein with cold, clear water. She glanced over at him, the sun catching just so it shone down on his tattoos, as if Mala herself wanted Aelin to look. Aelin licked her lips and narrowed her eyes as she studied the lines. The Old Language was already difficult to read, and his artistic rendering of it didn't make Aelin's job any easier. 

She could make out a few words, and could tell Aedion's theory was incorrect. The symbols etched into his flesh were not names, that was for sure. 

_ War,  _ Aelin could make out.  _ Mountains. Shame.  _

There was much Aelin didn't recognize, face screwing up in concentration when she came across something that actually may have been a name.  _ L… Ly… Lyri _ -

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Rowan’s sharp demand shattered Aelin's focus, blinking rapidly only to find the Fae warrior gazing at her with narrowed eyes.

“Like what?” Aelin said perhaps a tad too quickly.

Rowan didn't fall for her fib. She could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he tried to figure out what she had been doing. 

“Can you read the Old Language?” he asked.

“No,” Aelin said. “not well, at least,”

“You were trying to read my tattoo,”

She was silent, an answer in itself. Aelin's eyes flicked down, something akin to shame coursing through her. Perhaps she had been wrong to pry. If Rowan had wanted her to know what was written there, he would have said something.

A heavy silence fell between them, broken only by the gurgling brooke and the cry of birds in the air. Aelin felt like it was nearly suffocating. She found herself wishing Rowan would say something,  _ anything _ , curse her or scold her or-

“My mate died many, many years so,” Rowan spoke, his voice quiet and more vulnerable than Aelin had ever heard it. “and it was my fault. This tattoo tells the story of my failure to her,”

Aelin inhaled sharply, looking up at Rowan. His face was… sorrowful. An expression she hadn't even known he had been capable of making.

“How… how long ago?” Aelin murmured, unsure of if she were crossing a line.

“Two hundred one years and fifty-three days ago,” 

Aelin felt her chest constrict. He counted the very days without her, days, that for most immortals, were a blink of an eye… but each day must be agony for him. Aelin read about what it was like for the Fae to lose their mate. It was supposedly one of the most painful things that could happen. There were tales of those who lost their mates went mad or died or heartbreak… but here he was. 

“She sold flowers in Doranelle,” Rowan continued. “I saw her one day in the city, and I just knew. I courted her, we mated. Maeve did not approve of the union and I fell out of her favor… but I had Lyria, and she was mine,”

_ Lyria.  _ That was the name Aelin hadn't been quite able to read.

“Maeve gave me an opportunity to get back in her good graces, a call to war. Lyria begged me not to go, but I was foolish and headstrong and went anyway. I left her alone,”

Aelin swallowed hard, knowing where his tale was heading. 

“When I returned home, I found that our enemies used the mountain passes where our home was. I flew to her as fast as I had ever flown… but I was too late. Our house was burnt to cinders, and Lyria was dead. She had been carrying our child when I had left,”

The princess gasped, pressing her fingers to her lips. Children were rare and few and precious to the Fae. To lose his mate and his unborn child must have been unbearable. 

“I lost all sense of myself. I hunted down the men who had done it and slaughtered them, and then…” Rowan released a breath and looked up to the canopy. “I wandered the world, in and out of my Fae and animal form, speaking to no one, eating only when necessary, for ten years,”

“How did you get out of it?”

“Maeve hunted me down and bade me to come back and serve her, to command her armies. I had nowhere else to go, nothing holding me… so, I returned to Doranelle, tattooed my story and swore the blood oath,” Rowan said. “and I have served her everyday since,”

For a while, Aelin said nothing, allowing his words, his tragedy, to wash over her. What he had been through… and she had no idea. All those months Rowan had spent training her, she had never known he had mated, that he had lost so much. 

“I'm sorry,” Aelin croaked. “what happened… it's awful. I'm sorry you felt that pain,”

Rowan said nothing, but nodded his thanks, perhaps not quite ready to use his voice. 

“I'm grateful that you shared this with me,” Aelin said earnestly. 

He studied her face for a moment before standing, offering the princess a hand up, which she accepted.

“You're exhausted,” Rowan said. “go and rest. We're done for the day,”

Aelin felt as though the break was as much for him as it was for her.

…

Rowan hadn't known what had compelled him to tell Aelin about Lyria, but in the moment, it had felt right. She had listened intently and hadn't spoken up often, which was a rarity for her. He hadn't wanted her to pity him, but when he glanced towards her after he had finished his tale, all his found was sorrow and perhaps a glimmer of anger in her eyes.

Telling the tale had taken much out of him. It had been lifetimes since he had last spoke his story to someone. The Fae of Doranelle knew it, let the others make up their stories, believe what they would about him. Call him a bastard or monster, it meant nothing to him. He didn't care.

The next morning, Rowan wondered if the princess would say anything about what he had told her. Part of him expected more questions, he was steeling himself for it, but when Aelin stopped beside him the next day just outside the gates of Orynth, she only had one question.

“What are we doing today?”

Rowan glanced towards the tangle of the Oakwald. “We'll start off with a run,”

It was something they did often, ran as a warm up. Aelin had been getting faster and faster with each passing day. Not quite as fast as Rowan yet, but fast.

“Alright,” Aelin said before raising a sculpted brow. “Try and keep up,”

Almost before the words had finished coming out of her mouth, she took off.

Rowan waited a few heartbeats, allowing the girl to get a bit of a head start, before tearing after her. He was slightly relieved that Aelin hadn't brought up anything about what they spoke about the day before. She knew, not talking about it right now was easier. 

It was a bright and lovely day, the air still had a sharp coldness to it that bit at his face and invigorated him. 

They had been going further and further each trip out, exploring deeper into the Oakwald. Aelin had mentioned she hoped to see the Lord of the Forest one day, but they have yet to be so lucky. But, when they paused for a break, they would find tiny gifts from the Little Folk. Crowns of flowers and thorns for each of them, rings roughly carved from old wood, little figurines of stags and once of a hawk, which Aelin had found endlessly entertaining. 

The princess was doing well today. She managed to keep her lead on him for most of the run, but it was steadily shrinking as they bounded through the woods, twisting around gnarled trees and hurtling fallen, steadily rotting logs. 

Aelin's golden braid whipped through the air behind her, giving Rowan something to follow. Every once and awhile, she would throw a glance behind her shoulder to gauge the distance between them. Rowan would catch a glimpse of the exhilaration on her face, eyes wide and wild, face flushed. The Fae prince knew she enjoyed pushing herself, seeing what her Fae body could accomplish. She never complained when Rowan said they would be running, she use it as a chance to challenge herself even further. 

“You're slow today!” Aelin called, swiftly ducking under a low-hanging branch. “Your age must be catching up with you!”

Rowan scowled at her back, speeding up to the point where he could have reached out and brushed her shoulder, and then she sharply banked right. He blinked in surprise before following her movements. She was back to teasing and annoying him as she enjoyed doing. He was grateful that what he told her about Lyria didn't make her treat him different, start acting like he was made of fragile porcelain. 

He chased after her, rather impressed with how she moved, her swiftness. She did improve quickly, he would give her that. 

The princess surged forward and burst through the tree line into open air, slowing down until her toes reached the edge of a bluff, overlooking the plains of Theralis, her shoulders dipping slightly at whatever she saw. Rowan skidded to a stop beside the princess, looking out over at the vast plains. To his right, he could make out Orynth glimmering on the horizon. On the road that led to the towering fortress was a large party of horses and carriages kicking up dirt as traveled.

“They're early,” Aelin breathed. The euphoria and wildness in her eyes had melted, face now smooth as stone.

“Who are they?” Rowan asked.

“A delegation from the Southern Continent,”

Rowan had heard whispers about a visit from the royal family. The servants had been in a frenzy preparing Orynth in the past weeks.

“Who all has come?”

“All of them,” Aelin said. “The Khagan, his wife, his three daughters… and three sons,”

Her voice grew quieter with each passing word. Her lips were pursed tightly, fingers curled into fists. Slowly, everything clicked into place for Rowan.

“Marriage,” he said, glancing down at the princess. “They're here for marriage negotiations. That's what your parents wished to speak to you about and why you're no longer involved with the Allsbrook boy,”

She gave a single, firm nod. 

“You're only sixteen,” Rowan said, although it wasn't his place to. Sixteen, barely a breath in the life of the Fae

“Marriages have been negotiated with those much younger,”

She was right, of course. The short-lived marriage negotiations between her and Aedion occurred before she had reached her first decade.

“Besides, it's only preliminary discussions,” Aelin said, trying to muster some positivity into her voice. “Nothing it set in stone. By the time everything would be figured out,  _ if  _ I married one of the Khagan sons, I would be nearly twenty,”

“And you have no qualms about an arranged marriage? Not for love?”

Aelin gave a weak shrug. “I love my kingdom. That's… that's enough,”

Rowan sighed. “I have no love for politics,” 

Aelin gave a wry smile. “They tend to be tedious and messy. I can see why you got out of it, though I don't think I could do the warrior squalor lifestyle,”

Rowan snorted. “No, I hardly think you could,”

Aelin's eyes drifted over to Orynth's spot on the horizon before dragging in the opposite direction, linger as if she could see all the way to the sea. “I need to go back. I am to greet our guests,”

This wasn't one of her excuses to get out of training, no. Rowan could tell that she would rather spend the day running through the Oakwald than head back to the stone fortress, but it wasn't his place to hold her back. 

“Of course, princess,” he said.

Aelin looked at him as if she wished he had said something different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! I'm actually really surprised about the response this story this has gotten. I expected the following would be me and like two other people. Hope you all enjoy! Let me know what you think.


	7. Chapter 7

Aelin and Rowan ran back to the palace, though her heart was no longer thumping with the wild, reckless joy it had been before. It was now a steady, solemn beat as she prepared herself for what was to come. 

It wasn't that the news of a political marriage was new to Aelin. She had known about the possibility since she was old enough to understand what it meant. It was her duty, to provide for her kingdom however she could. If Aelin could increase trade, prosperity, and happiness for her people through marriage, she would do it in a heartbeat. 

Or, that's how she thought she had felt.

Now that is was so soon, that it was  _ real,  _ Aelin wasn't so sure what she felt.

She knew that if she truly couldn't stomach the idea of a political marriage, if she vehemently put her foot down, her parents wouldn't make her, even if it may not be the best decision for Terrasen. She came first for them.

So, Aelin came upon the walls of Orynth and said a brief goodbye to Rowan, who was looking at her with an expression that she couldn't quite read, but she didn't have time to try and translate. She rushed inside, told the first servant boy she saw the news of the Khagan's early arrival, and called for her ladies-in-waiting. 

She was immediately shoved in a hot bath to scrub away any dirt, sweat, or grime she had accumulated during her short training session that day. Her ladies helped her scrub her hair with jasmine scented soaps and coat her skin in bath oils until she felt as though she might smell like a flower shop. 

After Aelin had been cleansed enough to her ladies’ satisfaction, they pulled her from the cooling water. The princess dried her body and her hair with a thin tendril of power, letting ribbons of steam twist into the air until she was bone-dry.

Her ladies plopped her into a chair in front of her vanity, one twisting her hair up gracefully, another in charge of her nails, and the last applying cosmetics. It wasn't much really, just some powder, a swipe of khol around her eyes, and a light dye on her lips. 

Her ladies helped Aelin slip into her gown, one of her finer ones for such an occasion. Deep blue with golden stitching, a modest neckline but a back that dipped low. She had yet to wear it yet.

To finish it off, a golden circlet fashioned into twisting stag horns was placed upon her brow.

Aelin looked beautiful, she knew she did. Often times, she found comfort in that fact. But now… there was something uncomfortable about it.  

They made her lovely to throw her to the wolves.

…

Aelin was briskly making her way to the front gates of Orynth when Aedion fell in step with her, attempting to straighten his tunic and tie back his hair at the same time. 

“So rude to arrive this early without any warning,” he grumbled. 

“They're the rulers of the largest empire in Erilea. I don't think they particularly care,”

“I wish they had brought their Ruks,” Aedion sighed longingly. “I would pay good money to see one of those,”

Aelin shook her head and scoffed at her cousin. Of course that's what he was thinking about, while she had worry about which one of the three sons she could end up bound to for life. She had heard that they were all relatively handsome, but were they kind? Would they make her laugh? Would they tremble before her fire? 

“Hey,” 

Aelin was yanked out of her thoughts by Aedion stopping her with a firm hand on her shoulder, spinning his cousin around so that she faced him. His brows were knitted together in concern, perhaps sensing her nervousness.

“It's going to be alright, Aelin,”

The princess inhaled deeply to clear her head, schooling her face into peacefulness.

“I know,” she murmured. 

Aedion gave her hand a comforting squeeze. “Let's go before Orlon gets pissy,”

…

She and her cousin arrived just in time to spare themselves from being scolded, though they were sent quick, disapproving looks from Orlon and Rhoe. Evalin, at least, sent them comforting smiles.

“You look beautiful, Fireheart,” the woman said, pressing a chaste kiss to her daughter's golden hair before patting Aedion on the cheek. “And so handsome without that disgusting training uniform,”

“I'm rather fond of my disgusting training uniform,”

“I am not surprised,”

Aelin squeezed herself into position between her mother and Aedion just as the first horse crested the horizon.

It was a rather grand delegation, Aelin supposed.

The Khagan led, sitting upon a mighty war horse of the deepest brown. He was clothed in vibrant red silks, his long black hair and beard streaked with white. He looked rather stern, but his wife, beautiful yet aging, seemed pleasant enough, dark eyes drinking in her surroundings. 

There were guards donned in golden, ornate armor, carriages carved meticulously, and perfectly crafted weapons. There was no denying that their empire was ever so prosperous.

Aelin swallowed hard as their company came to a stop. They dismounted their steeds, the Khagan helping his wife with a hint of fondness cracking through his stony exterior. Six individuals behind them followed suit: the princes and princesses. 

The small party of southern royals stopped before the rulers of Terrasen. Aelin's breath hitched as she took them all in.

Her eyes first skipped to the eldest princess, Hassar, Aelin believed. Her face was screwed up in unpleasantness, dark eyes narrowed. She didn't seem impressed by what she was seeing. 

The other two seemed much more approachable. The second eldest, Duva, seemed sweet. She looked serene, and was eyeing Aedion with interest.

And then youngest, about Aelin's age, was Tumelun. Her dark hair was wild, as if she had been speeding on her horse before arriving. Her eyes locked on Aelin and her face split into a wide grin.

Aelin decided she liked Tumelun already.

And then, there were the princes.

Aelin had known they were all a good deal older than her but  _ seeing _ it for herself made it all the more real. The eldest son seemed to be much like the eldest daughter in countenance, lips tight and cold eyes narrowed. He was well into his twenties by now, a politician. Arghun, his name was.

The other two looked much more kind and much more handsome. Sartaq, the middle son, had his silky black hair braided back. Aedion had told her that he was gaining fame by being a talented Ruk rider. Aelin wondered that if she married him, if he would take her to the skies. It sounded exhilarating, flying. Even Rowan loved it, which she knew even though the Fae prince hadn't told her. She would often see a shadow of a hawk swoop by her room as Rowan returned to his suite from riding the sharp northern winds when they weren't training.

The youngest son, Kashin, was perhaps nineteen. He was already tall and strong, and held himself like Rowan and Aedion did: like warriors, though they were princes in title. She would assume that Kashin and Aedion would get along.

“Esteemed Khagan,” Orlon said, bowing at the waist. “Welcome to Terrasen,”

Aelin dipped into a low curtsey as the others around her also showed their respect.

“It is an honor to be welcomed to your kingdom,” the Khagan said, voice laced with a distinctive accent.

“Come, you must be famished,” Orlon said, making a sweeping gesture at the stone fortress behind them. “Allow us to show you to your suites,”

The royal family started toward Orynth, and the games began.

...

Aelin was tasked with showing the princesses to the interconnected suite they would be sharing while staying in Terrasen. 

Alone with them, Aelin wasn't quite sure what to say, but Tumelun broke any chance of awkward tension when she came up right by Aelin's side and began speaking.

“Is it true that you can shift?” 

Aelin was currently in her human form, her family having decided that it would be better for meeting the royal family. It would eliminate some of the otherness that Aelin might project to them. She was a princess from another continent far different from their own and a powerful magic user. The royals from the southern continent held no magic of their own, which Aelin assumed was one of the reasons they were interested in a marriage with her, to breed magic into their line. Aelin didn't like to think about it like that, but it was always on the back of her mind. Though her magic may be tantalizing, her Fae blood could make them apprehensive. There were no longer any Fae on the Southern continent, Aelin's pointed ears could make them nervous.

“Yes,” said Aelin simply.

“Can you shift for me?”

“Tumelun…” Duva scolded softly.

“It's an honest request,” said Hassar, calculating eyes glued upon Aelin. “Don't pretend that you don't want to see a Fae. It's all you talked about for the entire journey,”

Duva flushed, eyes skipping to her feet.

Aelin thought it over for a heartbeat longer before she shifted in a flash of white light.

Tumelun inhaled sharply, Duva was wide-eyed, and even the icy exterior of Hassar showed slight interest at her new appearance. 

“Amazing,” Tumelun breathed, eyes greedily studying the sight before her. “Does it feel much different? The Fae form?”

“It's… difficult to explain,” Aelin said honestly. “I do feel different, but I can't quite put it into words… I  _ feel  _ more. My senses are much better in this form,”

“Your cousin also has the advantages, yes?” Hassar asked.

“Yes,”

“And your fire?”

Aelin blinked. She had been expecting a question about her power, be she had not been expecting that it would be so bluntly worded. “What of it?”

Hassar was looking at her in a way that reminded Aelin of how Rowan would study new people he met, especially during the rare moments when he met another Fae male around the palace. Studying, assessing, finding strengths and weaknesses. Aelin didn't let it intimidate her, staring down the older princess evenly. ****  
** **

Hassar crossed her arms over her chest and cocked her head to the side. “Is it true what they say? Aelin of the Wildfire? Heir of Fire? Are these titles accurate?”

Aelin summoned flames to dance along her finger tips, twirling them between her knuckles. The warmth of the embers kissed the side of her face. 

“Yes, I suppose they are,” Aelin said, sending the princess a wicked little smile.

Hassar simply raised a dark brow, thoroughly unimpressed, but Aelin didn't let her reaction bother her, not that she had the time to when Tumelun immediately launched into asking the princess of Terrasen question after question regarding her magic. Aelin managed to keep up with the spirited girl, informing the princess that yes, magic could run out and yes, it used a great amount of energy.

However, soon their small company came before the door to the princesses’ suite.

Aelin gave a brisk curtsy. “You can rest and clean up here before dinner if you wish. The castle is yours to explore as you will,”

“Thank you,” Hassar said curtly, while her younger sisters nodded in a far warmer appreciation. “We will see you later,”

Hassar rather rudely shut the door in Aelin's face, which Aelin would later suppose was a good thing because the princess couldn't hear her hiss out a rather vehement  _ bitch  _ before heading off to her own rooms to collect herself before the dinner.

…

Rowan could sense the change that the visiting southern royals brought upon Orynth. The chatter was quieter, the servants rushed, and courtiers wore their finest clothes. It was unlike the court Rowan had grown to know.

He could feel the urgency, the importance, revolving around this visit. It could lead to a union between two powerful, prosperous nations, if all went well. It would be a smart choice for Terrasen… but Rowan couldn't help to think about Aelin, about her potential marriage to one of the Khagan's sons. She was young, only sixteen… it seemed like to heavy a responsibility to place upon her. He had a hard time seeing her playing the role of a blushing, bashful, bride. If that's what the Khagan was expecting, he would be in for a rather rude awakening. 

No, Rowan fully believed that Aelin would still be an utter hellion, married or not. She would never allow a ring on her finger to stifle her temper or tame her sharp tongue. She would never allow herself to become a pretty thing on the arm of a prince, there to entertain and produce heirs. 

“She's younger than I thought she would be,” said an unfamiliar female voice from further down the hall, pulling Rowan from his thoughts. 

“We knew she was sixteen,” said an equally unknown male.

“Yes but she just…  _ looks _ young. She's only a little older than Tumelun,”

Rowan saw the two figures walking his way long before they noticed him. A tall, lanky man and a shorter female, both with the distinct coloring from the southern continent. They both wore fine clothes, rich embroidered silks, that told Rowan that they held high status. The eldest son and daughter of the Khagan, Arghun and Hassar. They spoke rather loudly, most likely not used to trying to stay discreet when others had sensitive Fae hearing.

Arghun gave a tiny shrug. “I suppose. She's a pretty little thing though,”

Hassar's face curled in disgust. “She's sixteen, you pig,”

“She'll get older,”

Rowan reined in his repulsion at the prince's words, simply so that he wouldn't end up throwing the man against the wall for the way he spoke about Aelin. She was still young, practically a child. He had no right to look at, to even  _ think _ about her like that, not when he was a grown man himself.

Before Rowan could further debate the merits of ripping the air from Arghun's lungs, the prince and princess finally noted him walking towards them, the pair freezing in place and staring at him with wide, dark eyes.

“Prince Whitethorn,” Arghun breathed, bowing briefly at the waist. “it's an honor,”

Rowan did not bow back to him, did not even give a bob of the head in respect, not when he deserved none, not for how he spoke about the princess.

“We've heard of your exploits all the way on the southern continent,” Hassar said. “We'd also heard that you have been training the princess in magic. We didn't know if it was true but now…”

“I've trained the princess for years now,” Rowan said simply, looking almost solely at the woman so his eyes wouldn't betray his feelings about her brother.

“She is a fortunate girl to have you as a mentor,” Arghun stated. “perhaps we could find the time to train, so that I may learn the techniques of the Fae,”

Rowan looked toward the man, green eyes unyielding and cold. He saw Arghun shrink back under this gaze, from the sheer dominance and promise of violence it radiated. 

“My priority is training the princess,” Rowan said sharply, holding Arghun's gaze until the prince's eyes flickered away, down to his booted feet. He gave the princess the courtesy of a small nod. “Good evening. I hope you'll enjoy Orynth,”

A blunt but near polite goodbye and dismissal. Rowan couldn't stomach being near that prince much longer. He briskly made his way away from the royals, relieved he wasn't expected at the dinner tonight. Not for his normal reasoning of avoiding painful small talk, but because he feared that if he caught glimpse of Arghun looking at Aelin the wrong way, he would end up removing the prince's eyes.

…

Dinner that night would be a grand affair. The cooks had outdone themselves. The tables were heavy with food, every spare inch covered with plates of seasoned meats, roasted vegetables, savory breads and stews, and bottle upon bottle of their finest wines. For desert, Aelin was sure there would be countless sweets for her to taste, though her mother had warned her only half-jokingly to not eat too much sugar lest she get sick to her stomach.

Aelin had changed into a dress more appropriate for the time and event. A thick black gown, the neckline skimming her collarbone, but the back dipped down. Not far enough to be scandalous, but enough. A gold belt was tied upon her waist and matching golden whirls of embroidery decorated the sleeves and the edge of the full skirts. Elegant and powerful, just what was needed for the night.

The dinner hall was full that night, of visitors from the Southern continent to the courtiers of Terrasen. It may as well have been a party from how many people flitted about the great hall. 

Aelin was seated beside Tumelun, who had been quick to snag a seat beside the demi-Fae princess. Aedion sat on the other side of her, a constant and comforting presence. Across from Aelin directly was prince Kashin, seated between Sartaq on his left and Duva on his right. Arghun and Hassar took up the last two seats at the table, seated across from one another and studying the room around them while they sipped at their wine. They looked rather unhappy to be at such a grand feast, but Aelin didn't let their bitterness reach her. She found that the youngest sons were quite entertaining.

“What's it like to fly on a Ruk?” Aelin asked Sartaq, leaning forward slightly in her seat in anticipation.

“It's… exhilarating,” Sartaq said. “but indescribable. I could read a thousand books and never find the words to explain what it feels like,”

Kashin snorted softly. “It  _ sounds  _ as though you've been reading poetry, and writing your own, apparently,”

“I dabble,”

“One day I'll have my own Ruk,” Tumelun vowed, determination glinting in her eyes. “and I'll fly beside you,” the young princess turned to Aelin with a wide smile. “when I learn how to fly I'll take you to the skies with me if that's what you wish,”

Aelin saw the warmth and invitation on Tumelun's face, her lips curling up in the corners on their own accord. Aelin never had any siblings, her mother couldn't risk another pregnancy, not after what she went through with Aelin. And yes, she had Aedion and she loved him dearly like she would a brother, but there had always been a part of her that longed for more female company, for a sister. She didn't think she would ever find it, but looking at Tumelun now… Aelin would be thrilled to call her sister.

She took the girl's hand within her own and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I would like that very much,”

…

“They sure know how to drink in the North,” Hassar mumbled to her brother as she watched a servant refill Aedion Ashryver’s goblet for what must have been the tenth time since they sat down.

“What else are they supposed to do when it's too rutting cold to do anything else?” Arghun countered, leaning back in his seat and crossing an ankle over his knee.

The Khagan’s eldest son and daughter were displeased at the fact that they were not involved in the political chatter of their parents on the other end of the table, though it didn't seem to bother the other royal children who were all speaking animatedly and thoroughly ignoring them, though the siblings were inclined to speak to each other in soft murmurs so the others wouldn't hear. They were forced to sit and watch and hypothesize what they spoke about, studying the facial expressions of Orlon, Rhoe, and Evalin as their mother and father proposed new ideas.

Something said made Evalin's face scrunch in distaste, though she tried to hide it.

“Do you think the girl will be much like her mother?” Arghun asked his sister, swirling the wine in his glass.

“I would presume Aelin will look much like her mother when she's older,” Hassar said, popping a grape into her mouth. 

“I didn't mean in  _ looks _ .” Arghun shot back. “Evalin Ashryver had a difficult time conceiving and bearing her daughter because of her Fae blood,”

“Why does it matter?”

“Because if Aelin Galathynius cannot produce heirs for us, what good is she?”

Glass shattered from down the table, causing the din of conversation to fade away. Arghun and Hassar whipped their heads to the sound, finding the Ashryver boy covered in wine that had just been in his goblet… which he had just shattered in his bare hands.

His turquoise eyes were glued on Arghun, rage evident in their depths… but a pair of matching eyes were what truly caught his attention.

“What,” Aedion ground out through clenched teeth. “did you just say?”

Arghun's mouth went dry upon looking at the cousins, realizing his mistake. He saw Aelin's pointed ear, remembered Aedion's extraordinary abilities, too late. Their hearing was sensitive, something they were not used to dealing with, and they had heard every word they had said. The Ashryvers looked at him with pain promised in their eyes.

Perhaps a fool would be afraid of the boy, at his towering figure and prowess in battle… but Arghun was no fool, and he looked instead to Aelin.

Her lips were pressed in a tight line, chest rising and falling deeply as she struggled to control her emotions, her power. The gold surrounding her pupils began to pulse and beat with light, and Arghun remembered who he was talking about. The Fire Bringer, Mala's Heir. She was no hapless girl, no. She trained with Rowan Whitethorn for gods sake. She could kill him. Easily. A fact that Arghun was acutely aware of as she slowly rose from her seat, still holding his gaze. Her hands scorched sizzling marks on the table, smoke curling around her.

Arghun didn't know what she would do. Would she attack? Could her Fae instincts be reeled in? Could her cousin's?

But Aelin simply held his gaze for another agonizing heartbeat longer before swiftly turning heel and storming out of the grand hall, sparks dancing at her heels slammed the heavy wooden doors shut behind her, harder than a girl her size had the right to slam them. 

Aedion looked towards where his cousin had just run off before snapping his gaze back to Arghun. 

“I should slaughter you for those words,”

Arghun didn't doubt that he could.

From the other end of the table, their parents had noticed the fiasco, confusion written on their faces. 

Aedion sent him a wicked smile that was more along the lines of baring his teeth.

“You can explain to them what happened, prince,” the Ashryver boy snarled before taking off after his cousin, calling her name as he disappeared down the hall.

Arghun's body relaxed a fraction, but found that he wasn't quite in the clear yet. All eyes were on him, his siblings looking at him incredulously.

Sartaq was the one who broke the tense silence.

“Arghun, you rutting idiot. What did you  _ do? _ ”

…

Aelin tore down the halls of Orynth with reckless abandon. She didn't care if the servants stared or of the courtiers gossiped. They were just blurs to her anyway.

In one hand, she bunched up her skirts. With her other, she tore of her circlet and flung it away from her, yanking pins and combs from her hair and hearing them clatter on the floor behind her as she finally burst through the towering front doors or Orynth into the crisp night air.

The guards barely had time to take a breath before she was well past them and into the Oakwald.

The trees were streaks of shadow as she sprinted through the forest, faster than she had ever gone, even with Rowan. She didn't know where she was going, but she didn't care. Just  _ away.  _ As far away from Orynth as she could travel with her own two feet and Fae swiftness.

_ What good is she? _ The prince had questioned.

Her Fae fertility hadn't been something that Aelin had considered when it came to marriages. A kingdom needed heirs, even  _ Terrasen  _ needed heirs. What if she couldn't provide that? What good would she be for her own damned kingdom then?

Alone in the forest with nothing but the beasts and the birds and the Little Folk, Aelin finally let the first sob escape from her throat. It was a pitiful sound and she knew it, weak like a dying animal.

She thought she had been ready for this, for taking up all the responsibilities that came with her position. Aelin had thought she was grown and mature enough… but she had been wrong. If such a tiny insult set her off so, she would never survive the court games. When Arghun had said what he said, her power had been roiling and baying beneath her skin. It wanted to get out, to maim to  _ hurt  _ for the insult that had been thrown at her. If it hadn't been for Rowan's tutelage, Arghun could have been nothing but a pile of ashes. 

No one would want a fire-drake as a queen. They would fear her, fear her power and her temper. She would ensue a reign of terror without intending to. 

Branches whipped at her skin, thorns tearing as her skirts as she ran deeper and deeper into the forest. Tears swam in her eyes as she leapt over fallen trunks and ducked beneath low-hanging branches.

With a gasp, Aelin burst through the treeline and found her toes hanging off the edge of a cliff, overlooking the massive sprawl of the Oakwald. She had never been to this spot before, didn't know where it was, but the princess didn't care. Aelin hid her face in her hands, letting out another pathetic cry before falling to her knees. 

Her flames encased her, cocooning her in their warm embrace, protecting her… but she hardly noticed as she sat there and burned.

And burned.

And burned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you guys enjoy! it took a bit longer to update this time because of exams and moving out of my dorm, but let me know what you think!


	8. Chapter 8

Rowan’s night had been quiet. Besides the occasional drunken giggle of courtiers that passed by his door on the way to their own or someone else's bed for the night, there had been nothing. It was well past midnight by this time, the moon at its peak in the inky black sky.

He used the time and silence to draft a letter to Maeve, who liked to keep updated during Rowan’s stays in Terrasen. He wrote to her about the potential marriage alliance between Terrasen and the Southern Empire. It had the potential to become a momentous political development. It would increase the strength of both Terrasen and the Empire exponentially. 

Rowan was nearly finished with drafting his letter when there was rapid knocking at his door. His brows came together, wondering who the hell would be knocking on his door so urgently at this time of night. Rowan put down his quill and crossed the room in a few long strides before opening his door.

Aedion Ashryver stood before him, hair and tunic disheveled, face coated in sweat. There was worry and urgency in his eyes.

“What's wrong?” Rowan asked, standing straighter as his magic speared out around him to see if there was a threat lurking nearby.

“It's Aelin,” Aedion breath, wiping his brow with the sleeve of his tunic which had been of fine make but now was probably ruined beyond repair. Rowan could smell horse clinging to his clothes, he had been riding and had been so preoccupied, he hadn't bothered changing out of his dinner finery. 

“What about her?” 

“She's missing. We can't find her,”

“Was she taken?” Rowan asked, already concocting a hundred possible plans for whatever situation unfolded. 

“No, no…” Aedion sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “During dinner, Prince Arghun said something foul about her, thinking we couldn't hear it but… we did. Aelin stormed off,”

Rowan's fists clenched, wanting nothing more than to drive them into Arghun's gut. He didn't know what exactly he said, but as of right now, it wasn't any of his business. They had to find the princess.

“Do you know what direction she headed?” Rowan asked, grabbing his hatchets and attaching them to his belt, adding a few knives and daggers into sheathes and hidden in his boots. 

“The guards say she ran into the Oakwald,” Aedion explained. “We've been searching for hours but… it's hard to track her when she's in Fae form… but you can get an aerial view. You might be able to spot her,”

Rowan gave a firm nod as he tightened his vambraces. 

“I'll find her, prince,” Rowan vowed, stalking to his balcony and, without another word, shifted in a flash of white light and took off into the night sky. 

…

Aelin could be anywhere. With a few hours and her Fae speed, she could be deep within the heart of the Oakwald, where even Rowan would have a difficult time finding her.

There were beasts in the forest at night. Not like the abominations that prowled the woods on Doranelle, but wolves. Rowan had heard their mournful howls many times in the night.

Aelin should be able to defend herself against one the wolves, but she had been upset. She could slip up, get hurt or worse. 

Rowan’s eyes critically scanned the forest below him, looking for a flash of golden hair in the breaks between the trees, but he had yet to get lucky. His search and been going on for nearly an hour now, but the Oakwald was a monstrous forest, stretching from Terrasen to Adarlan. There were still many places to hide.

Dawn was but a few hours away. Rowan wanted to have the princess safe within the halls of Orynth before the sun breached the horizon, but his luck was dismal. Not a glimpse of the girl, nor a whiff of her scent. Nothing to point Rowan in her direction. He was beginning to grow frustrated, but then…

He felt her before he saw her.

Well, he felt her  _ power  _ at least.

Rowan’s magic jumped in response to the waves of roiling, immense magic that pulsed ahead of him. His winds pushed him faster to that source until he saw a warm orange glow just off the edge of the treeline. 

Rowan sharply cut down, slicing through the air and shifting as he reached the ground.

Aelin was on her knees, her normally vibrant eyes staring blankly over the sea of trees before her. Her hair hung limply, dress torn with dirt and mud splattering her skirts. She was enveloped in her fire and made no indication that she noticed his presence. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Rowan spotted large glowing eyes and spindly limbs. The Little Folk, watching over the princess. They retreated deeper into the shadow upon seeing Rowan.

He could feel the heat of her flames against his flesh, almost stifling hot. He put up a shield against it and took another step forward.

“Aelin, your family is looking for you. They're worried,”

She didn't respond, didn't even glance at him. Something was wrong. 

His magic tentatively reached out toward hers and instantly knew what was happening. There was no sense of  _ Aelin  _ there. She had no rein on her power. It was dominating her, using her as a vessel and gobbling up her energy, her lifeblood… which was desperately low.

She was burning out.

“Aelin, you need to stop,”

The princess did not heed his words, still and unmoving as a statue, flames continuously lighting up the darkness.

“Aelin, look at me,” Rowan commanded sternly, hoping the authority in his voice may push past the trance she was stuck in. 

It seemed to do the trick just enough. Ever so slowly, she began to turn towards him, peering over her shoulder. Her face still held no emotion, cold despite the flames the encased her. But her eyes...  in those turquoise depths, there was a hint of pain, of pleading. 

Rowan cursed under his breath. “I'm sorry, Aelin,”

He ripped the air from her lungs.

The princess let out a shuttering gasp as her flames winked out, falling backwards and clawing at her throat as she choked and convulsed. The grass beneath her hissed and crackled, her body still burning despite her flames being gone.

Rowan released his power, air rushing back into Aelin's lungs, but it wasn't enough to stop the effects of her burnout. Her face was contorted in pain as she writhed and whimpered, the plants surrounding her shriveling up and turning to ash.

Rowan knew he needed to cool her down, and quickly before the remnants of her magic consumed her from the inside out. He steeled himself before kneeling down and scooping the princess into his arms, blocking out the pain of the burns he now received along his arms and his chest. His discomfort was secondary.

Rowan took off into the woods.

The weight of the princess barely hindered him. She was still just a slip of a girl. 

Gnarled and towering trees flashed by him too fast to really get a good look at. But he didn't need a tree, he needed-

A shallow pool was dead ahead. Barely more than a puddle, but it would do in the circumstances. He skidded to a stop before the pool and placed the princess in the water, dress and all. Instantly, the pool began to steam, the heat of her flesh at incomprehensible temperatures. Rowan froze over the pool, watching the princess to ensure she was alright. 

Aelin's face was screwed in pain, brows bunched and sweat dotting her brow. It was only a heartbeat later when the ice Rowan had conjured cracked and began to melt away. He refroze the water again and again, each time it would melt from the heat radiating from Aelin, and each time he was prepared to begin the process anew. It could take all night, but that didn't bother Rowan. He was patient. He would do what had to be done.

…

Aelin had never known pain like this before.

Every bit of her burned with hellfire, ripping apart and stitching back together over and over again. She couldn't take it much longer.

She didn't know how it started. Aelin remembered escaping to the woods and falling to her knees and being cocooned by her flames. Then, time was warped. She didn't know how long she had sat there, couldn't remember most of it save for a pinch of pain in her lower back.

And then agony.

She had been barely aware of a presence beside her, picking her up and placing her in a small pool.

All Aelin could do was focus on her breathing, try to make it deep and even instead of the shaking mess it was now. In and out… she had to focus on that rather than the misery she was currently in.

She didn't know how long she sat there, vaguely aware of the water surrounding her freezing, melting, and freezing again. At first, it felt that it did no good, she was still burning from the inside out, but slowly, she cooled and her mind began to clear and-

Rowan. It was Rowan who was kneeling beside her, cooling her down for gods know however long. 

The water eventually turned lukewarm. Rowan didn't freeze it again. She heard as he shifted beside her, not having the energy to open her eyes at the moment.

“Can you hear me, Aelin?” he asked.

The girl gave a weak nod.

“Are you going to burn up again?”

“No,” she rasped out, barely recognizing her own voice. 

Rowan dipped his hands into the pool, cupping water in his palms before letting it trickle over her face. The cold water felt heavenly against her still flushed skin.

“If you think you're going to lose control, tell me,”

Another shallow bob of the head.

They fell into silence, only the slosh of the water disrupting the all-encompassing hush that had fallen over them. 

“You almost burned out,” Rowan finally said. “Another few minutes and it could have been too late for you,”

Aelin swallowed hard. “Is… is that all I have? Just a few hours of fire?”

She didn't want to sound too hopeful, that the immense power she was supposed to possess that people whispered about didn't really exist. 

“No, Aelin,” Rowan said. “You lost control of your power, let it feed off of you relentlessly. If you had a handle on your magic, you would be able to last much, much longer,”

The princess released a tiny sigh, eventually prying her eyes open. It was still dark out, but dawn was on its way. 

“Are… you alright?” he asked tentatively, and Aelin knew it wasn't regarding her near burnout.

She hesitated a heartbeat. “Prince Arghun said that if, because of my Fae blood, I couldn't provide heirs, then I was useless,” Aelin couldn't make herself meet Rowan’s gaze, though she could feel it on her. “and… perhaps he's partially right. Even Terrasen would need heirs one day and if I can't provide…”

Rowan didn't say anything for a few moments, contemplating his next words. 

“I come from a land of Fae,” Rowan began. “pregnancies are rare and few, but no one blames the females for that, disrespects them or belittles them.”

A bitter little laugh escaped Aelin. “Perhaps I should move to Doranelle then,”

A beat of hesitation.

“Arghun is a slimy piece of shit,” Rowan stated. “any words that come out of his mouth are worthless. You, out of everyone, surely know that, know your own worth,”

“Aye, I do,” Aelin said, looking up to the sky, trying to catch a glimpse of the night sky through the gaps in the trees. “I know I'm prettier and smarter and wittier than Arghun. I know that I am invaluable… but his words still stung,”

“Let it sting,” Rowan said. “These words may hurt now, so may the next nasty ones… but eventually, they'll bounce off,”

“I suppose if I have three hundred years of ignoring insults I'd get pretty good at it too,”

“What makes you think people insult me?”

“Well, not to your  _ face, _ ”

Rowan let out a wry chuckle, Aelin's lips twitching up at the sound. She turned to look towards him, despite her body protesting at the effort. Her small smile fell at what she saw.

His shirt had been scorched through, ugly red burns covering his chest and torso and arms. It didn't take Aelin long to realize who had done that.

“I-I hurt you,” she whispered.

Rowan glanced down at himself, as if only just remembering his injuries.

“It's alright, princess,” he said. “Nothing I can't handle,”

But his words did little to assure her, guilt wracked her body as her eyes began to burn. She had  _ hurt  _ him. Badly. She had been so out of control that she hadn't even remembered doing it. 

“I'm so sorry,” Aelin croaked. 

“It's alright, Aelin,” he said, in a voice more comforting than she had ever heard him use before. “It's alright…”

Again, the lapsed into silence, Rowan allowing the princess to shed her tears and recompose herself for a few moments. He waited until her breath had evened.

“Do you feel as though you can leave the water?” 

“Yes… but I don't know if I can walk all the way to the palace,”

Rowan gave a single nod, expecting this. He kneeled beside the edge of the pool, hands out.

“May I?”

Aelin knew what he was asking, and although it may have normally made her blood boil to think about, to be seen as weak, she knew it was going to have to be this way or she wouldn't make it back to her home tonight.

Aelin nodded, Rowan reaching into the water and scooping her up. The sudden movement agitated her sore body, Aelin trying and failing to bite back the small cry of pain that left her lips. She noted that Rowan winced at the sound. 

“Apologies,”

“I'm fine,” Aelin rasped, though every shift and bounce had her clenching her jaw in pain.

She didn't know how long they walked for. Aelin faded in and out of consciousness, a bone-deep exhaustion weighing her eyelids down. She knew that if Rowan ran, they would arrive back in Orynth much quicker, but he wouldn't put her through the pain he knew it would cause.

The journey was mostly silent. Rowan would occasionally stop to ask her about her well-being, if she was in too much pain and wanted to rest. She never took him up on one of those offers.

Soon, the sky turned a dusty pink. The woods around Aelin began to look familiar, and she knew they weren't far from the fortress. Any moment now, they would reach the treeline.

“Wait,”

Rowan instantly stopped at the sound of her voice, green eyes flickering down towards her.

“Let me walk the rest of the way,”

“You're still weak,”

“I know that,” Aelin said. “But no one else needs to,”

Potential allies could not see her as weak, especially not after how she stormed out the night before. She couldn't be carried in, half-conscious after a magical meltdown. No. She'd make the final leg of the journey on her own, even if each step was agony. She'd hold her head high for her people.

“Very well, princess,”

He slowly lowered her to the forest floor, watching with a critical eye as she held her weight with her own two feet. It still hurt like hell, but Aelin managed to keep her discomfort to herself, save for a small cringe. 

Once Rowan was satisfied that Aelin could hold her own weight, a took a step back to give her the space she needed. Aelin could still feel his eyes on her, watching for any hint of a stumble or fall. She was grateful, though, that he let her do this by herself. 

And so, they began the slow march the rest of the way to Orynth. 

Each step Aelin took hurt like hell, but she powered through, perhaps just slightly slower than her usual gait. She knew she looked like a wreck, her hair and dress still wet, covered in dirt and mud and leaves. It was the least of her concerns now.

They were soon through the treeline and coming up upon the gates of Orynth. The guards at first seemed wary at the two figures approaching, both looking rather haggard after a night of no sleep, but they soon recognized the two, stepping aside and letting them enter.

They came across no one but servants and guards at first, mostly too busy with their morning duties to pay much attention to their arrival. That is, until a familiar blond head popper around the corner.

“Aelin!” Aedion sighed, relief evident in his tone. “Thank the gods you're alright!”

He went to embrace her, but Aelin halted the action with a single raised hand. She wasn't sure if her sore body could tolerate it in the present.

“Not now,” was all Aelin said, not slowing her pace in the slightest at the confusion on Aedion's face. 

The Ashryver boy looked to Rowan for some kind of explanation. 

“Make sure she gets to her rooms,” Rowan said. “she's alright, but she needs to see a healer. I'll bring one to her,”

Aedion gave a single firm nod, not needing any more explanation before turning heel and following after her.

“Are you alright?” Aedion asked his cousin softly, eyes critically scanning over her being. 

Aelin was able to muster a single nod, lacking the strength to dredge up any words. This seemed to be enough for Aedion at the moment, though she could tell her cousin longed to bombard her with questions, to figure out where she had disappeared to any why her eyes were glazed in pain. 

Aelin could tell Aedion was on edge, she could practically feel the tension rolling off of him in waves. Any sound of footsteps down the hall or a whisper of voices had his head whipping towards them, fists clenched. If Aelin had the energy, she would have teased him about his overprotective bullshit, but luckily for her cousin, every step was a miracle. 

Relief flooded her as she laid eyes upon the doors to her rooms. Aedion surged forward and opened the heavy wooden doors, stepping aside while Aelin crossed the threshold, swinging it shut behind them.

Aelin’s knees gave out almost before the door even completely closed, Aedion’s quick reflexes catching her before she added to her injuries. He didn’t miss the tiny whimper that slid past her lips as her sore body was jostled. He helped her limp to her bed, laying her down on top of the thick blankets and furs.

“Thank you,” Aelin managed to whisper.

“Rowan’s bringing a healer,” Aedion said, kneeling down beside her. “Try and stay awake,” 

Aelin bobbed her head in understanding, though all she wanted to do was shut her eyes.

“What… what  _ happened  _ to you, Aelin?” 

A weak sigh rattled in her chest, placing her hands across her belly. “I lost control and almost burned myself out… would have, if he hadn't found me,”

“Gods…”

_ Dead.  _ Aelin would have been  _ dead.  _

“Don’t look at me like that,” Aelin snapped.

“Like what?”

“Like I’m… broken. Weak,”

“You  _ are  _ weak you stubborn ass,” Aedion ground out. “You barely made it to your room. You almost died! Do you know how long we looked for you? Gods, if we had been just a few minutes later-”

“That is enough, prince,” 

The stern and familiar voice was enough to shut him up rather quickly. 

Slight and straight-backed with a head of frizzy, grey hair and steadily wrinkling skin, Poppy didn’t look very intimidating, but to the two young Ashryvers who were familiar with the Head Healer of Orynth due to their rambunctious natures leading to thousands of little hurts over the years, they knew the old woman was a force to be reckoned with. 

“She's got enough to worry about without you quarreling with her,” the women scolded, shuffling into the room. Behind her followed a few other healers, Rowan taking up the back.

Aedion hung his head a muttered an apology before moving out of the way of the healer.

Poppy examined Aelin, scanning for flesh wounds before leaning closer.

“How do you feel, princess?” she asked.

“Just… sore,”

Rowan scoffed at that, leading to Aelin shooting him a sharp glare.

_ Tell the truth or I will,  _ his face seemed to say.

The princess slowly tore her gaze away from the Fae prince and looked back towards Poppy.

“I'm… I'm in great pain,” Aelin admitted. “I barely had the strength to make it to my rooms,”

“Prince Rowan tells me you nearly burned out,” Poppy said.

“Aye…”

Poppy tutted. “I've not had to deal with a problem such as this in a long while,” she turned to her acolytes. “Make the princess something for the pain, and something for sleep. She needs rest. What would you recommend, Prince? I'm sure you have dealt with things such as this,”

“Bed rest, at least a week of it. Maybe more,” he said, ignoring Aelin's look of horror. “It would be unwise for her to touch her magic until her strength is fully restored,”

Poppy nodded her head. “Yes, yes. I agree,”

“She’s not going to last a week,” Aedion murmured to no one in particular. 

Aelin’s top lip curled in a weak snarl at her cousin. 

“If you’re going to keep bothering her, I’ll have you kicked out,” Poppy threatened. 

“Apologies,”

Rowan watched as two young acolytes ground and mixed herbs, a third one helping Aelin off the bed to change her out of her still-wet dress. The Fae Prince took this as his cue to leave. The rest of her family would be here soon and his presence was no longer required. He turned heel, but before he could make it out the doors, the Princess spoke.

“Thank you, Rowan,” 

The way she said it and the look on her face… Rowan had never seen her look so sincere before. 

He gave a simple bob of the head before exiting her rooms and making his way to his own. He supposed he would have to find something to do with himself for the next week, considering Aelin wouldn’t be training. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! sorry for the wait, I had exams and had to move out of my dorms so I've been pretty busy. Hope yall enjoy, lmk what you think!


	9. Chapter 9

Three days passed. Rowan spent his time avoiding seeing the eldest southern Prince while training with Aedion and the other soldiers. The Ashryver boy was happy to have him there, eager to learn from the Fae Prince, everything that he could possible squeeze out of him.

Aedion was a good fighter, as was Ren Allsbrook, but the latter didn’t have the blessing of Fae speed and agility. He moved like a storm, swift and dangerous, turquoise eyes filled with the thrill of the fight. Rowan couldn’t help but think that Gavriel would have been proud of him, would have loved watching his son fight. He had a difficult time looking at his tawny-eyed friend without guilt coursing through him. As much as he wished to tell his friend about Aedion, it wasn’t his place to.

“How fares you cousin?” Rowan asked as Aedion brought his longsword crashing down upon his shield.

“Absolutely miserable,”

“She’s in that much pain?”

“No, she’s just bored,” Aedion ducked under one of Rowan’s blows. “Which makes her miserable to spend time with. She just sits there and whines and complains, ordering me to the library for more books or to the kitchens for more chocolate,”

“She must be very thankful that you’re doing that for her,”

“No, I ignored her last few requests. I heard her cursing me all the way down the hall,”

“Something tells me she will make you pay for that,”

Aedion shrugged. “I have a few more days to prepare for whatever wicked thing she thinks up,”

Rowan pitied the boy, knowing that Aelin currently had nothing but time to concoct some dastardly plan to royally piss off her older cousin. Part of him was curious to see how it all played out.

They sparred until Rowan knocked Aedion on his ass, leaving the Ashryver prince wincing and rubbing his backside in pain.

They parted ways, Aedion needing to wash up for dinner where he was still expected to entertain the southern royals until their departure in a few days. Aedion had told Rowan that Arghun had taken to not speaking in his presence, which was a good idea for the southern Prince. Rowan could tell the Ashryver boy was waiting for the chance to rough him up for what he had said about Aelin. Rowan couldn’t say that he would stop him.

Rowan headed back towards his rooms to clean off after training. The halls of Orynth were now as familiar to him as the back of his hand. He knew the names of the courtiers and servants that wandered past.

Just as he was passing Aelin’s room, a strange wooden _thump_ reached his ear followed by a filthy curse that definitely came from Aelin’s mouth. Rowan paused and strained his ears for the sign of any trouble, but simply heard another wooden _thump_ followed by another creative and equally foul word.

Against his better judgement, Rowan tentatively knocked upon the ornate oak doors.

“Come in!” the princess barked from within.

Rowan wasn’t sure what he expected to find. Perhaps the princess over-exerting herself and stumbling over dressers, or digging through drawers trying to find something to keep her entertained. What he didn't expect was to see the princess sitting up in bed, heavy blankets and furs covering her legs, throwing daggers at a rudimentary target hanging from her ceiling from a length of old rope.

“If you've decided that I'm well enough to scold, I'll have you know I already sat through nearly two hours of it from Poppy, my parents, and Orlon,” Aelin said, not even bothering to look at him as she let another dagger fly, embedding itself into the wood. There was a disapproving look at her face at the outcome, already reaching for another blade.

“I'm not here to scold you, though you probably deserve more,” Rowan said, taking a few steps closer to get a better look at the messily painted rings of the target. “What do you have here?”

“Aedion and Ren set it up for me once they got tired of keeping me entertained,” Aelin said, bright eyes squinting as she lined up her next shot. “They don't believe in days off from training,”

She let the next dagger launch, the silver sinking deep into the wood. Not a terrible attempt, much like her others which all peppered the second-most ring.

“Loosen your wrist just a bit more,” Rowan advised.

Aelin quirked a brow, but reached for another blade that she had resting beside her legs. Her face was etched with concentration as she lined up her shot before her arm shot out, quick as a whip, and the blade embedded itself within in inner circle.

Aelin turned to him, delight in her eyes. “I half expected you to yell at me. This is much more preferable. Could you get those daggers for me since I am confined to be prison of blankets and pillows?”

Rowan tried not to roll his eyes at her dramatics, but complied to her request, efficiently ripping the blades from the room, twirling one between his fingers by habit and casually flipping another as he finished clearing the board.

“When I’m free from bedrest, you have to show me how to do that,” Aelin said. “It’s very intimidating,”

“Perhaps eventually,” Rowan said, dumping the blades on her comforter.

“Eventually?” Aelin repeated. “Why not right away?”

“Because you lost control and nearly burned out,” Rowan said. “So, you’re still in trouble,”

The princess scoffed in indignation and stubbornly crossed her arms over her chest. “Prick,”

“I think you call me that more than my actual name,”

“I can throw in some new one if you’d like,” Aelin offered. “Bastard, ass, mother-fuc-”

“I get it,” Rowan cut her off, heading towards the door. “You have the worst mouth of any princess I have ever met,”

“Thank you,” Aelin grinned. “Aedion taught me everything I know,”

“It wasn’t a compliment,”

Aelin pretended not to hear his last statement, threading her fingers together and resting them on her belly. “My family refuses to tell me of the southern royals, think it might… set me off or something foolish like that. Have they… have they said anything about me?”

Although she tried to hide it, Rowan could hear the hint of worry in her voice. She was genuinely concerned about the image she had portrayed, if she had hurt Terrasen because of her reaction.

“Prince Sartaq and Kashin have trained along with your cousin and I a few times,” Rowan began slowly. “They asked Aedion how you fared, seemed worried. They mentioned that Tumelun is especially sad about your absence,”

“Tumelun is welcome in my rooms whenever she pleases,” Aelin said. “I rather like her,”

“I think she’s rather fond of you as well,” Rowan stated. “I’ll make sure to pass on the message. I’m sure Aedion will be happy to have someone else keep you entertained,”

“Do you want to hear what I have planned for him for ditching me?” Aelin said, a wicked grin on her face.

Rowan wouldn’t lie and say he didn’t.

…

Aelin managed to survive the rest of the week. Tumelun came and spent time in her rooms, talking to her and bringing her sweets that she had gotten from the kitchens and telling her of the wonders of the southern continent. Her colorful tales made Aelin nostalgic for a place she had never been. Her home sounded like an beautiful center of art and culture and learning. Aelin still hoped to visit one day in the future. The young southern princess was careful not to mention her eldest brother.

Aelin was thrilled when she finally got Poppy’s blessing to leave bed. She was sure she wouldn’t have lasted another hour under the covers. For once in her life, she could honestly say that she was excited to train, so long as it gave her the chance to get out of bed and move around. She wanted to run, to fight, to do anything besides sit on her ass all day.

She was up and ready early, donned in her training leathers with her hair plaited back neatly. She was rather cheery as she made her way down the halls towards the dining room for breakfast. Her parents, uncle, Darrow, and Aedion were already seated.

“How are you feeling, fireheart?” Her mother asked.

“Fantastic,” Aelin said with a wide grin as she claimed the spot across from Aedion.

“At least now I won't have to listen to you complaining,” Aedion said.

The princess cocked her head to the side. “I'm sure me almost burning out was just _so_ hard for you,”

Aedion simply gave a lazy shrug, more interested in the food that was being brought out than his cousin's annoyance. It all smelled devine. The eggs, bacon, and roasted potatoes were steaming in the plates brought by the servants.

Aedion hardly wasted any time before digging in, first going for the mug of tea provided. However, the minute the liquid met his tongue he spat it back out with a curse. It was absolutely scalding, probably as hot as one could get it without it boiling.

Not thinking much of it, Aedion moved his tea off to the side and taking a bite of the bacon. His face screwed up in distaste at the bitterness of it. Burnt practically to a crisp. In fact, looking at his plate, everything was overcooked. He had never had this problem with the cooks here before. Aedion glanced up towards Aelin, prepared to ask her if she was experiencing the same issues, only to find her smirking like a fiend at him, happily eating her perfectly cooked meal.

It clicked into place. Aelin had used her magic to burn his breakfast nearly past recognition as payment for him ditching her when she had been on bedrest. Rowan had warned him that she would come up with something wicked.

Aelin raised a single brow, as if to challenge him to tattle on her to her uncle and parents… she knew he wouldn't. They had never told on one another, choosing to accept punishment together. So, Aedion held her gaze, took a large bite of burnt potatoes, and finished every morsel on his plate.

…

Content after a very tasty breakfast, Aelin went off towards the spot where she met Rowan. The Fae warrior was already waiting there, shoulder leaned against the oaken doorway, looking as though he had been waiting there hours even though Aelin was actually early for once. She shifted as she came upon him.

“How was breakfast?” Rowan asked as the princess fell in step with him.

“Mine was rather delicious, but my _poor_ cousin had his burnt to a crisp,” Aelin said, a conspirator’s grin on her face as she looked up at him. “Rotten luck,”

Rowan let out a short laugh. Aelin had told him her plan, and he knew she would follow through with it. “Unfortunate,” he commented. “How long exactly do you think you cousin will be… unfortunate?”

Aelin have a tiny shrug. “Perhaps a week. No more than that,”

“I suppose that could be seen as almost fair,”

…

Aelin wondered if Rowan ever made jokes, because he sure as hell hadn’t been kidding about her still being in trouble. His punishment involved lots of running and exercise and no magic or blades, making the princess _very_ pissed off. She murmured mean names and comments under her breath just loud enough that she knew Rowan’s Fae hearing could pick it up, but he chose not to comment back and invite a brawl, not that he would have to worry if they brawled. Aelin wasn’t close to being able to beat him yet. Which she had to repeatedly remember because they spent about a week sparring. Still no magic or steel. She supposed for an immortal, it didn’t feel long. But it felt like eternity for her.

It took two weeks before Rowan allowed magic again in their training. He wanted her to try spiraling down into her power and releasing it in controlled bursts. The practice Aelin didn’t mind, but the spiraling left a heavy feeling in her gut. She couldn’t find a bottom of that well that Rowan said magic users have. It just… kept going.

“Pay attention,” Rowan barked, throwing a small dagger of ice that Aelin barely managed to escape being scathed by.

“Sorry,” Aelin said, shaking herself. She hadn't quite mastered reaching down into the depths of her power and staying focused on the world around her at the same time, a problem that Rowan continued to point out.

“If you can't focus while spiraling-”

“I'll be killed, I know,” Aelin said. “You've already told me that maybe three times today,”

“And yet nothing has changed,” Rowan snarked.

“I'm working on it,” Aelin said testily, narrowing her eyes at her mentor. “Besides, when am I ever going to need to use that much of my power? The continent is peaceful,”

Rowan crossed his arms over his chest. “Peace can disappear in a blink of an eye. Just because your lands are peaceful, doesn't mean war isn't in the near future,”

Aelin supposed he was right, but no one had attacked Terrasen in the last century. The kingdom was too powerful, any move against them was folly. But that hadn't meant that Terrasen had grown lazy or foolish. They still had highly trained troops and military leaders. Aedion was already showing amazing prowess in battle, easily working his way up the ranks. Some believed he would get his own legion some day. Aelin knew her cousin could easily accomplish that feat.

She just hoped, despite the truth in Rowan's warning, that she wouldn't see war anytime soon.

…

Aelin moved like quicksilver when she fought. Smooth, precise, and possibly deadly. Her form was already pretty good, and still had room for improvement. If she hadn't been born heir to the throne of Terrasen, she may have made a formidable warrior, or, if she had taken another path, a possibly notorious assassin.

But, Rowan kept those observations to himself as she watched the fight before him. Aedion had joined them for training today, giving the princess someone to spar against while Rowan watched for shortcomings. She had been working with twin long knives recently, and was finally getting the opportunity to try them in real time.

Aedion swung, the tip of his blade nicking the leather breastplate Aelin wore when she failed to move fast enough.

“You don't have a shield when you fight with twin blades,” Rowan said, green eyes still narrowed at the cousins as the sliced and dove and twirled. “you'll have to be faster than your opponent or you will end up with a sword through your gut,”

Aelin barely bobbed fast enough to avoid being smacked in the head by Aedion's heavy shield.

“You heard him,” the Ashryver boy taunted. “You need to be faster,”

“ _You_ need to keep your mouth shut before my foot is up your ass!” Aelin bit out, slicing the silver blade through the air in a way that could have decapitated some men.

However, Aedion wasn't just _some man_ and was able to avoid any harm, feet moving swiftly as he knocked his cousin's legs out from underneath her.

Aelin fell to a heap on to the forest floor, the end of Aedion's sword pointed at her throat. It was over.

“All bark and no bite,” Aedion crooned.

Aelin's lip curled back as she snarled, baring elongated canines that could actually provide a rather painful bite if her cousin continued to piss her off.

Aedion twirled his sword and slid it back into its sheath before offering Aelin a hand up.

“You lost focus,” Rowan critiqued as the princess found her footing. “you let your anger blind you,”

“What, you're telling me that you don't get angry when someone smashes your face in with their shield?” Aelin asked, brushing off her trousers.

“I'm angry, but I gave that anger shape,” Rowan said. “It's okay to be angry. You're normally pissed off in one way or another when you spar. Hone that emotion, make it a blade,”

“Full of poetry and wisdom, as always prince,” Aelin said dramatically, waving her hand through the air with flair.

Rowan's glare brought out a bought of snickers from the cousins. Part of him wanted to scold the pair, that what he spoke about wasn’t a joking matter, but upon seeing the lightness in their eyes, the words withered on his tongue. It had been a long time since he had felt young and carefree as they were. Let them enjoy it while they could, before the heavy responsibilities looming on the horizon settled upon their shoulders.

Responsibilities that would come too soon.

Aedion scented it the same time he did. The princess didn’t notice the change at first, brows knitting together when her cousin put out a cautious arm before her, eyes darting around, searching for the unknown presence.

But, this wasn’t a stranger to Rowan, but this presence wasn’t expected either. His gaze went up to the sky just as dark silhouette swooped over them, unleashing a piercing cry of a bird of prey. An osprey to be exact.

The bird dove down and shifted in a flash of white light into a tall man with dark, straight hair. Rowan was already speaking before he was halfway towards the male.

“Vaughan. What are you doing here?”

…

Aelin couldn’t take her eyes off the stranger. He was Fae, tall and lean with dark, tilted eyes and tanned skin. _Vaughan,_ Rowan had said. One of his cadre, a warrior serving beside him under Maeve. The male clasped forearms with Rowan, a sign of respect and recognition.

Beside her, Aedion was still on edge, muscles tensed and hands rolled into lose fists. Although he was seeing another legendary warrior, he was still ready for a fight. Aelin could see where his wariness came from. There was not just one, but two powerful warriors under the command of a ruler that they did not trust in their lands.

“Maeve sent me,” the male said. “I could travel faster than a messenger. She requires you back in Doranelle immediately,”

“What’s happened?” Rowan asked.

The male’s face was tight as he looked to his companion. “The Akkadians attacked one of our border posts. Doranelle goes to war,”

Aelin inhaled sharply as that final word rung through the air. The slight sound drew the male’s, Vaughan’s, attention to where she and Aedion stood. He swept a curious gaze over the pair of them, sizing them up. Aedion didn’t seem to like that at all. Aelin was thankful that he managed not to growl at the visitor.

Vaughan bowed his head slightly. “Your highness,”

Aelin dipped her head in turn. “My lord. Welcome to Terrasen, though I wish your visit could have been under more pleasant circumstances,”

Rowan’s lips pressed together at her words, telling the princess that he, too, felt the same.

…

Training was cut short that day, Rowan rushing back to Orynth to collect his things. It seemed that when Maeve said immediately, she meant it. He would be leaving as soon as he had his supplies readied.

There would be no grand delegation to send him off. They simply didn’t have the time to organize it. Aelin’s parents and uncle were confined to meetings all day that were not to be disturbed. They wouldn’t even learn about Rowan’s departure until long after he was gone.

Aelin, at least, could say goodbye. She supposed he deserved that. After the hesitant truce they had made, after the near burnout… she could be civil for now. Perhaps for the last time if things did not go well… but Aelin didn’t want to think like that.

She met the Fae prince just outside the palace door. She still wore her leathers from training, Rowan had changed into more travel-appropriate attire, strapped with weapons and a tattered cloak over his shoulders. Aelin made a mental note to get him a new one if she ever saw him again.

“Please give your uncle and parents my sincerest apologies,” Rowan said, adjusting his vambraces. His green eyes skipped out towards the edge of the Oakwald, where Vaughn leaned against a tree and waited for his companion. “I wish I didn’t have to leave on such short notice,”

“It’s not your fault, they’ll understand,” Aelin said, looking up at the warrior. Something different had come over his face, more serious and somber as he prepared himself for war. Aelin had never seen or experienced it, but he had gone to war and back countless times. “How long will this war last?”

“There’s no way to know,” Rowan said. “Some Fae wars have spread across hundreds of years…”

Aelin’s breath caught in her throat. At war for over a hundred years? It sounded impossible… but she knew it wasn’t. She didn’t want to think about being at war for even a single year. The death and destruction and sorrow it wrought…

She wanted to tell him to be careful, but the words died on her tongue. It sounded silly that she would tell a three-hundred year old warrior to be careful. What good would that do anyways? So, she said, “Good luck,”

Rowan seemed thankful for the small blessing. Then, he did something surprising. He reached behind his back and produced a blade in a finely made sheath, just smaller than her forearm. There were decorative whorls and symbols carved into the leather. He handed it to the princess.

Aelin stared at the blade with wide eyes, pulling the blade from its sheath. The polished silver shone in the afternoon light, clean enough that she could see the reflection of her eyes as she marveled at the beautiful weapon, carved with blessings in the Old Language. It was a Fae blade.

“For your improvements in magic and combat,” Rowan said in way of explanation. “Forged by one of the greatest blacksmiths in Doranelle,”

“It’s beautiful,” Aelin breathed.

“It’s a reminder to keep training,” Rowan said. Of course, only he could turn such a fine gift into a training exercise.

“I will,” Aelin vowed. “I’ll train everyday, so the next time you come back, I can bring you to your knees,”

A spark of amusement shone in his eyes. _You can try._

With that, Rowan shifted in a flash and tore off into the sky, an osprey joining him not long after. Aelin watched them fly off over the Oakwald and Staghorns until even her Fae eyesight failed her. She clutched the dagger in her fist, jaw set in determination. She would continue to train, with Aedion, by herself, with whatever magic users she can find.

She would train.

And then she would show the world what Aelin of the Wildfire could truly do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoy! This is the end of part I of this story and it starts to pick up even more coming up! Lmk what yall think!


	10. Chapter 10

**Part II**

****

There were about a million other things Prince Rowan Whitethorn of Doranelle would rather be doing than sitting on an uncomfortable log before a fire and  _ waiting.  _ Truly, it was the waiting he hated. Between battles, when soldiers grew tired and the stench of fear filled the air, nearly smothering him. Rowan himself wasn’t afraid, no. Decades of being honed into one of Maeve’s commanders buried any semblance of fear that he may have once held, but he could still feel it radiating from the younger, more inexperienced soldiers in his legion. 

Almost two years had passed since he was summoned away for Terrasen to war. Almost two years of fighting, of blood and injuries, of sleepless nights filled with the screams of amputees from the healing tents. 

A young Fae beside him brought a tin of water to his mouth, but his hands were shaking so much that most of it spilled over onto his trousers. Rowan figured the most he could do for him was pretend he didn’t see it. On nights like these, speeches of honor and glory on the battlefield didn’t help much.

Rowan finished the last bit of his rather flavorless rabbit and ran a hand through his now-cropped hair. He had sheared most of it off when he had arrived back to Doranelle. Easier to deal with during war. 

The fire before him danced and swayed in the night breeze, nearly flickering out, but it didn’t. The wood cracked and split under the heat, the only sound in the night. At first.

It started out as a barely noticeable whisper from across the camp. The whisper spread from warrior to warrior until it became a steady hum of murmurs, growing louder and louder. Rowan didn’t think much of it at first.

“Dead? Just like that?” one male said.

“Killed on the road,” his female companion clarified. “They attacked the delegation, the royals-”

“It’s an act of war,” someone butted in. “How will Terrasen respond?”

Rowan perked up at the mention of Terrasen. He looked over his shoulder, trying to find the source of the conversation, but someone sat beside him before he could.

Rowan glanced at Gavriel, his companion’s tawny eyes grim in the orange glow of the fire.  “Have you heard the news from the western continent?” he asked.

Rowan sat up straighter. “What news?”

Gavriel swallowed hard, his throat bobbing. “Soldiers from Melisande covertly intercepted a delegation from Terrasen on the way to Adarlan, and slaughtered them,”

“Who was in the delegation?”

“Soldiers, some of the royal family, a few politicians-”

“Who from the royal family?” Rowan cut him off. 

“Evalin Ashryver and Rhoe Galathynius,” 

Rowan couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Both of them were killed? What of Orlon, the princess and the Ashryver boy?”

“They weren’t part of the delegation,” Gavriel said. “They’re alive in Orynth, mourning for now… but it’s only a matter of time before Orlon declares war on Melisande,”

“What is their motive for attacking?”

“They didn’t declare one, nor can I fathom any of my own,” Gavriel admitted. “They don’t share a border so it can’t be about land, they’ve been trading peacefully for years, and Melisande is not a large kingdom. It is folly to provoke Terrasen,”

Rowan said nothing, resting his elbows on his knees as he stared deep within the heart of the fire. Aelin should be about eighteen by now, and had lost both of her parents in one deft blow. She would be a wreck of grief and sorrow without her parents beside her… but that would mean-

“Good gods,” Rowan breathed. “Aelin Galathynius is next in line for the throne of Terrasen,”

She would be the youngest queen Terrasen had had in many years. Barely eighteen and suddenly the weight of the crown was infinitely closer than it had been before. Perhaps they did it to weaken Terrasen, hoping that after Orlon passes, Terrasen will lose power with a young, inexperienced queen on the throne. 

“Will Wendlyn send aid to avenge the Ashryver name?” Gavriel asked.

“Perhaps they won’t even need to,” Rowan mused. “Terrasen’s army is strong enough,”

“Aye, Aedion Ashryver has been given his own legion, they say,” Gavriel said. “The Bane. Perhaps he and his men will lead the first strike,”

“Perhaps,” Rowan said, looking down at his hands. It was difficult to hear Gavriel speak about his own son like a stranger. Part of Rowan wished he had never learned the truth about the Ashryver boy, if only it meant he didn’t have to keep anything from his friend. 

“We haven’t time to be worrying about the squabbles across the sea,” a gruff voice cut in. Lorcan stood before them, face grave as always, scarred arms crossed over his chest. “We have our own problems to worry about,”

Rowan knew Lorcan was right. He shouldn't distract his mind when he had to worry about his own battles and his life. He should be focusing on resting and spiraling down into his magic, but he couldn’t make himself focus on that. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the fire.

…

The princess knelt in the dark, shrouded in shadow and a black veil. The sun had long since set, Mala's warm embrace disappearing to be replaced with Deanna's cold gaze.

She was kneeled before two gravestones, the soil before them freshly disturbed. It had been a week since she had lost them, and every day their absence was a fiery blade through her heart.

The cold northern winds smelling of pine and snow disturbed her mourning veil. She had long since cried the last of her tears, but her eyes were still puffy and red. 

The princess sang the traditional mourning songs of her kingdom in the tongue of the Fae. She did not understand most of it, but it was custom. As were the stones placed upon the curve the grave.

Her voice was hoarse and rough, but she didn't stop. Besides, there was no one to hear her besides the moon and the stars.

The princess sniffed and wiped her turquoise eyes with the sleeve of her black, velvet gown. Plain and harsh, very unlike most of her attire. 

She heard footsteps approaching her from behind, but she wasn't worried. She recognized his scent. The male with matching golden hair and eyes knelt beside her. He too donned dark clothes of mourning, but his face no longer held sorrow, rather icy determination.

“The Bane and I head out tomorrow. We march through Adarlan and meet Melisande on their border,” he said eventually.

For a few moments, the princess said nothing.

“I'll be joining you,” she said at length.

The man hesitated a beat, but gave a single nod of the head. He didn't want to see his cousin on the battlefield, but he could understand her drive for this. And he wouldn't deny her that.

The princess rose to her feet, jaw set stubbornly. From her hip, she slid an exquisitely made dagger from its sheath and dragged the edge of her blade over her palm. Blood welled up as she clenched her fist over her parent's grave.

“I'll make them pay,” she vowed. “I promise,”

With those words, sparks danced between the princess's fingers as they curled into fists. Her black veil burned away to ash on the wind and she slowly turned and looked towards her cousin.

“For Terrasen,”

...

Another month and a half passed by without any news from their neighboring continent. Rowan focused on battles, on strategy. For the most part thus far, there was no clear winner. Each side fought hard, won and lost. It was exhausting, but he was immortal and had infinite patience for this kind of game. 

They had been victorious in their most recent endeavors, which put the soldiers in a good mood. They had captured a strategic enemy base today, which happened to be stocked with provisions. So, tonight, they drank and ate and laughed. It was well-deserved.

Rowan sat alongside a few of his men around a fire, enjoying some of the wine they had found stashed away in this base. The camp was bustling, filled with soldiers from his, Lorcan's, Gavriel's, and even Fenrys’s legions. The younger Fae had met up with them after the base had been secured to provide a few extra men to ensure that they would be able to hold this position. It had been sometime since Rowan had last seen the golden-haired male, and found his presence to be as polarizing as ever.

Fenrys was loud and arrogant. The younger Fae enjoyed his company greatly, finding him a refreshing change from Rowan and Maeve's other warriors. He joked easily, made them laugh, and was an animated storyteller. Even when Rowan tried not to listen to him, it never worked out.

Fenrys had just gotten through a tale about the latest exploits of his legion, telling Rowan's men what had happened in what must have been the most dramatic way possible.

“When we were stationed on the coast,” Fenrys began, wiping his upper lip which had a crescent of white foam from his ale. “there was a merchant from the western continent, from Terrasen,”

Rowan hadn't heard any more news from the their neighboring continent. He didn't know if they were in the middle of a bloody war or how that conflict had been resolved, but it would seem that Fenrys had heard something.

“Melisande had assassinated the Prince Rhoe and Evalin Ashryver on the road. Orlon declared war almost immediately,” he continued. “The merchant said everyone expected the king to send a huge host to Melisande, but, he didn't. He sent one, single legion,”

Fenrys paused, allowing tension to grow but only making Rowan annoyed.

“The Bane, led by Aedion Ashryver, the Wolf of the North,”

There were soft murmurs around the fire at the mention of the Prince and his legion.

“And, traveling with them, was the Heir of Mala herself, Aelin Galathynius,”

Rowan's brows knitted together as the murmurs grew louder. There were not many who knew that Rowan had trained the princess, but Fenrys gave him a knowing look. 

Aelin had gone to war? She was only eighteen, though Rowan supposed there were others who had marched to their dooms at much younger. 

“Melisande had a host ready, expecting an attack. They had been ready for soldiers, waiting for the general to crest the hill with his legion,” Fenrys continued, the spark in his eye growing. “What they didn't expect was the Firebringer to rise above the hill as the sun did, donned in golden armor and crowned in flame, glowing as bright and beautiful as a newborn goddess,”

Rowan could picture it. Aelin always did have flair. 

“Aedion Ashryver came to her side, the Bane following behind, and they looked down upon Melisande's army, and they  _ grinned.  _ Vicious, terrifying grins. Some said the men at the front of Melisande's lines pissed themselves at the sight,”

Fenrys cast a look around his audience, smug to see that he had their complete and undivided attention.

“They say the battle was over before it even begun,” the young Fae continued. “The Princess and the General led the charge and broke through the lines as if they were made of glass. They cut their way through Melisande’s army like wheat, fire and steel working side by side,” there was a slightly glazed look in Fenrys’s eye, as if he was picturing himself there at the battle, watching. “Melisande’s army wasn’t prepared for Aelin Ashryver Galathynius. She fought her way through the thick of it, barely winded, right up towards the general of Melisande’s legion. He barely had the chance to raise his sword before she had disarmed him, grabbed him by the throat, and lifted a full-grown man straight off the ground,”

Another pause, to give the audience time to picture the scene.

“They say that every warrior on the killing field looked towards the princess and the general in those last moments… where Aelin of the Wildfire burned the general from the inside out and turned him to ash,” 

Rowan couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Yes, Aelin was certainly powerful enough to accomplish such a feat… but she had killed a man, and probably multiple more before that if Fenrys was to be believed. Yes, she was mature now, but that first life one ends takes a toll. Rowan tried to picture her fighting on the killing fields. Yes, she had been talented when he left, but she had also been sixteen. All he could see was that young girl splattered in dirt and blood in the thick of the fighting. It was a concerning image indeed. He could understand her need to avenge her parents’ deaths, but would she hurt herself in that process? The need for revenge, that kind of rage… it can destroy a person.

Fenrys had painted a picture of a fearsome warrior-princess, who burnt enemies alive and slaughtered armies on her own. Had she changed so much since losing her parents? Would a fiery, spiteful queen soon ascend Terrasen’s throne?

“Melisande’s army surrendered, and once news of the battle reached its queen, once she heard of how one legion decimated hers in such a short amount of time, Melisande as a whole surrendered. She wouldn’t risk the Bane sweeping into her lands and taking hold of more territory,”

“How do you know all of this?” one soldier asked.

“The merchant’s son was a soldier in the Bane,” Fenrys answered. “He was there and saw it all happen,”

“The princess is that powerful?” another male mused. “Terrasen will be untouchable with her on the throne,”

“Terrasen has been untouchable for centuries,” Rowan said. “Aelin Galathynius hasn’t changed that,”

“I’ve heard that Aelin Galathynius heads towards Adarlan,” a dark-haired female said, swirling wine in her glass. “I bet she’s going to marry Dorian Havilliard,”

“It would be a smart match, especially after the death of Rhoe and Evalin,” another said. “Terrasen and Adarlan are already the two most powerful kingdoms on their continent,”

Rowan felt this conversation was strange. They spoke of the princess as if she were a piece of a chessboard and nothing more. Perhaps he would have joined them, if he hadn’t known the princess after years of training her. 

“Dorian Havilliard would be a lucky man then,” Fenrys said. “I’ve heard she's quite stunning,”

“Not to mention mixing his raw magic with Aelin Ashryver's fire,” a male said. “Any offspring would be unstoppable,”

Rowan shook his head slightly and stood, wandering towards to the edge of his camp. Of course Fenrys would be enamoured with the idea of a beautiful, wild, fiery princess, and of course the others would be contemplating the mixing of the Galathynius and Havilliard lines… it just wasn’t a conversation he wanted to be part of.

Rowan reached a spot that was sufficiently quiet, taking a deep breath of cold, night air. From his spot on the bluff, he could see a sliver of dark sea on the horizon.

Had things really changed so much across the ocean?  The death of Rhoe and Evalin would undoubtedly create a major shift in politics, and after the short-lived conflict with Melisande, Terrasen once again cemented its place of power on the continent, showcasing Aelin as a powerful future queen. He wondered if she truly headed it Adarlan as the others had said or if it was a rumor. Marrying Dorian Havilliard would create an alliance that secured control over nearly half the continent and would squash any other potential conflicts like the one Melisande started.

Rowan’s eyes flickered north-west, mind across the sea. He knew he should focus on the problem at hand, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the rulers of Terrasen. He had spent years as their guest. Although Rhoe, Orlon, and Evalin had been wary of his presence at first, they soon grew comfortable around him and treated him kindly. They were quick to smile and loved Aelin and Aedion greatly. He appreciated the Ashryver boy's determination and skill, and despite the fact that Aelin was belligerent and tended to push him to the edge, Rowan wouldn't wish harm or sorrow upon the girl.

The Fae warrior stood vigil before the sea long into the night.

…

Rowan ripped his sword from the gut of an enemy soldier, a fan of blood rising into the air and splattering across his face as the ill-fated male crumpled into a useless heap onto the dirt. With half a thought, the Fae prince ripped the air from another’s lungs, not even glancing back as the faceless soldier choked and clawed at his throat. It was almost too easy.

The battle was dying down, the last few clashes of swords on shields and screams of the injured rising into the evening air. 

Another year had passed since news of the deaths of the prince and princess of Terrasen had reached their shores. No other stories from across the sea had reached their ears, which told them that the rumors of Aelin Galathynius traveling to Adarlan to marry Dorian Havilliard were just rumors, and nothing more. News of a union such as that would have eventually reached them, no matter how far or how deep in war they were.

But they were no longer in the middle of the bloody war with the Akkandians. They had finally reached the end. Doranelle reigned victorious this time around.

The end of the battle was always Rowan’s least favorite moment. Men grew tired, faces and movements weary as they fought for their lives or slaughtered others. It was always quieter at the end, making every sound of death louder and clearer in the air. 

This hadn’t been the worst battle Rowan had ever endured, but he still wished it over. 

Rowan lost track of time. He didn’t know how much longer he stood on the muddy, desolate battlefield, felling anyone foolish enough to charge him, but eventually they stopped coming, and it was over.

There was no signal of victory. No cry of valor or chanting or cheering, just heavy breathing and silence as they looked over the bodies of the fallen and found only their brothers standing. 

Rowan caught Gavriel’s eye from across the field, his sunny hair slicked back with blood and grime. He appeared weary, but fine. Rowan began to study the rest of his surroundings, searching for familiar faces among the crowd. Maeve had sent nearly all of them, his cadre as he now got used to saying after far too much time around Aelin, save for Connall. She always kept one of them by her side. She had wanted this battle over quickly.

Rowan saw Lorcan sheath his blade with brutal efficiency, hardly bothered by the death and destruction surrounding his. Vaughn was finding discarded arrows and determining whether they were in good enough condition to keep. Fenrys was trying fruitlessly to clean his filthy face with his equally filthy sleeve. His expression was uncharacteristically stoic, lacking his normal infuriating smirk. He often looked like this after battle, drained in more ways than one. 

Rowan unleashed a deep breath, shaking off the thrill of battle. He sheathed his weapons and began making his way across the battlefield, searching for the injured among the fallen, wondering how many of his men he would never have the chance to fight alongside of again.

…

It took another week or two before they began the trek back to Doranelle. 

Those first few days after the end of a war were always a strange transition, no longer having to sleep lightly should the enemy attack during the night, no longer having eyes on on the back of their heads. It was hard to relax, even slightly, though Rowan knew neither him nor his comrades ever truly relaxed.

The clear rivers and pristine stone buildings of Doranelle were a welcome sight after the grime and shadow of three years of warfare. It was good to see that some bit of life went on, that the merchants still bartered on the streets and males tried to woo females in the markets. 

Rowan’s men were especially happy to be home, to see their families and friends they had left behind. Wives and mates and children rushed towards their loved ones, eyes misty and laughs and cries of happiness on their lips.

It had been centuries since Rowan had someone to return to. He tried not to dwell on it much anymore. There was no use to it. Thinking about Lyria and their unborn child wouldn’t help him. Besides, none of his cadre had someone to come back to after battle. If any of them ever took a lover, it normally did not last longer than a season, if it happened to last longer than a single night. 

Rowan supposed he was luckier than some of the others. He still had family the dwelled in Doranelle, his copious cousins and aunts and uncles, but he wasn’t close to most of them anymore, not after Lyria. He had shunned their help and comfort and thrown himself into a blood oath. It was rare he ever really spent time with them these past few decades. 

Maeve’s palace was as cold and ethereal as always. It was normally empty and quiet. Maeve, unlike other queens, didn’t keep courtiers around. Rowan supposed after the millenia she had been alive, she would grow tired of their tittering and gossip. What few servants Maeve kept around were always as quiet and quick as shadows. Maeve did, however, have guards scattered throughout her palace, tall and silent, like statues. 

Maeve herself appeared as she normally did, elegant with lazy grace she had perfected over the years. Not a single hair on her dark head was out of place. She wore a tasteful gown of deep violet, accented with silver. She was power, refined, untouchable. 

Without being asked, Rowan and his comrades knelt before her throne, beside which a massive black wolf sat, watching with intelligent, dark eyes. Connall. 

“I am glad to see you have all returned unscathed,” Maeve drawled, picking a non-existent piece of lint from her skirts. “But I expected nothing less. Tell me Lorcan, do we have control over the border?”

Lorcan stood. “Aye, your majesty. We have control over both our border outposts as well as those of the Akkadians,” 

Maeve’s lips curled in the corners. “Good. Let hope that they think twice before encroaching on our land again,” she let out a breathy sigh, as if already bored. Three years of war, reduced to a few second of conversation. “Lorcan, Gavriel, Connall, Vaughn, you’re dismissed,”

The wolf beside the throne shifted in a flash, Fenrys’s dark reflection casting his brother a curious and accusatory look, as if to say,  _ What did you do? _

Lorcan and Vaughn left without looking back, but there seemed to be some semblance of concern in Gavriel’s eyes, gone almost as quickly as it appeared, before he stalked off with the others.

Fenrys didn’t risk looking at Rowan before they stood in tandem, waiting expectantly for whatever their queen decided to do or say. 

“I presume you’ve heard the news from across the sea? About the death of my niece and her husband?”

“Aye, your majesty,” Rowan said for the both of them.

“Terrible news, isn’t it?” Maeve said, examining her nails, hardly looking like she was talking about the death of a foreign ruler, let alone someone from her bloodline. “And then a war right after, how awful,”

Her tone didn’t help in showing that she thought it was awful in any extent.

“Rowan, your training with the princess of Terrasen was cut short by our scuffle with our neighbors,” Maeve said, dark eyes finally landing on him. “How old was she when you left?”

“Sixteen,”

Maeve tutted. “Well, in total, she missed out on a year of training promised to her by the bargain I struck with her family. I want you traveling west as soon as possible,”

Rowan blinked once, the only sign of surprise on his face. He hadn’t considered the possibility to going back. After three years on the killing fields, his priorities had shifted. By now, Aelin was nineteen. She had reached maturity, passed it, in fact. He was only supposed to train her until she had reached her eighteenth birthday, but Maeve was right. He couldn’t have upheld his end of their agreement during the war. 

“For how long will I be in Orynth, your majesty?” Rowan inquired.

“I suppose it will be easiest to stay the full year this time around,” Maeve said. “Aelin Galathynius is grown now, I’m sure she is mature enough to handle it. Besides, you’ll only have to make the trip there and back once,”

“Aye, as you wish,” Rowan said, bowing his head slightly.

“And Fenrys,” Maeve said, turning her dark gaze towards the golden-haired warrior. “I want you to travel with him,”

A beat of hesitation. “To Orynth, my lady?”

“Yes, to Orynth,” Maeve said. “Let it be a symbol of my goodwill, that I’ll send two of my warriors to Terrasen during this… troubling time. Help them in anyway you can,”

Fenrys bowed. “As you will it,”

Maeve seemed pleased. “I’ll send word of your arrival. Take the night to rest and recover and then travel swiftly,”

Rowan and Fenrys both felt a tug at the last request, meaning that their queen truly wanted them to travel quickly towards Terrasen if she enacted the blood oath. Rowan stole a glance towards his companion, finding a light glimmering in his eyes. He was excited to travel, to leave Doranelle and Maeve and the blood oath behind for some time. The young Fae made it no secret that he detested the life that he was bound to, and since Maeve had a penchant for cruelty, Rowan couldn’t find any reason why she would allow him this brief moment of freedom. There must be another reason that Rowan couldn’t see and that Maeve wouldn’t share with them.

Maeve gave a lazy flick of the wrist. “You’re dismissed,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ended up posting a bit earlier than normal because I got a lot of really nice comments on the last chapter, and this one is essentially a filler and it mostly for setting up the rest of part 2. Hope you guys are still liking it!


	11. Chapter 11

The two Fae warriors traveled swiftly over the sea and land that separated them from Orynth. Rowan knew that they would arrive well before any message that Maeve may or may not have sent out, meaning he and Fenrys would arrive to Terrasen's stronghold unannounced. It would clearly put their court on uneven footing, a fact that Rowan was sure Maeve knew already. Every decision she made was planned out with cunning. 

The journey was completed faster than Rowan had ever made it, with the blood oath ringing through his veins. Before he knew it, he was back in the mountainous terrain, the cold northern winds ripping through the air. It had felt like a lifetime since he had last stepped foot in this territory. 

They were finishing the last leg of their journey in animal form, Rowan soaring about the sea of green that was the Oakwald, Fenrys's lithe, white form weaving through the trees below. Rowan was sure he was having a grand time sprinting through the ancient forests.

Orynth glittered before them in the late afternoon sun. They were close enough that Rowan could see the guards stationed along the walls and those manning the front gates where he was heading, until he felt it.

Something seemed to be calling the very magic within his veins, a familiar warmth. It was deeper than it had been before, more mature almost, but he still recognized the burning inferno that was Aelin's magic. Almost before he knew what be was doing, Rowan banked to the right away from the gates of Orynth and towards that steady thrum of power.

The tendril of magic led him to the side of the fortress. His keen eyes could make out the gardens, could smell the flowers beginning to bloom in the early spring air. He picked up the sound of feminine laughter coming from the edge of the garden and spotted three figures below a towering apple tree. 

Rowan swooped down a respectful distance away from the women, shifting as he landed on feather-soft feet. The hood of his cloak was thrown over his head, obscuring his face in shadow. 

They hadn't picked up on his arrival yet. He could make out two dark-haired women sitting in the grass with their backs against the apple tree, snacking on whatever they had brought to nibble on. The third figure was sprawled out on the ground, head resting on one of the women's laps, a well-worn book in front of her nose. 

It was that woman who first noticed something had changed. She had stiffened, shutting her book and swiftly sitting up, her hand reaching to her ankle to pull out a hidden dagger, a familiar Fae dagger at that. 

The woman was on her feet in a heartbeat, golden hair tumbling down the back of her elegant black gown, gold circlet gleaming in the afternoon light, intelligent turquoise eyes trained on the spot where Rowan stood concealed by the gloom of the trees. She took another tentative step forward, blade clutched tightly in her fist before Rowan stepped out from behind the tree and into the light.

He couldn't believe what he saw.

Aelin Ashryver Galathynius stood before him, yet she was different. Yes, he had known she was mature by this time but he still had the image of the sixteen year-old girl in his mind, all round cheeks and pouting. Aelin was no longer that girl anymore.

Her face had lost all of its childish roundness, features sharp and graceful, accentuated by her Fae blood. She had grown an inch or two in height, and she had grown  _ strong.  _ Gone was the awkward thinness of her youth, she had grown into a woman's body, shoulders broader, legs stronger.

Her dress was cut to her perfectly, as far away from modest as she could get while still keeping the image of a princess. It was one shouldered, a golden belt cinched around her thin waist. The arm that was bare was decorated with golden cuffs and bracelets.

There was shock and surprise on her face as she took him in, full lips parted ever so slightly as she took a few more steps forward, close enough that Rowan see the freckles that dusted over the bridge of her nose and the gold ringing her pupils.

Yes, this was Aelin standing before him, but she was nothing like the Aelin he remembered. He supposed Fenrys and his stories had been right. She had grown to be rather lovely.

“Rowan?” she spoke finally, brows knitting together as she tried to get a good look at his face.

The Fae prince bowed slightly at the waist. “Your highness,”

He had never treated her with such formalities, but it had been different before. She had been a young, whiney princess. Before him now stood a future queen. She stood differently, held herself with dignity and power, a reminder of the wildfire that coursed through her veins. 

Aelin's grip on her dagger, the dagger he had gifted her before heading to war, loosened. “What- what are you doing here? The war-”

“Is over,” Rowan finished for her. “I left Terrasen before we finished our training. Queen Maeve bade me to return to complete the bargain,”

Rowan studied the princess, trying to see glimpses of the care-free girl she had been, or the powerful warrior the stories spoke about, who cut through armies like wheat and burnt men alive. At the moment, her face was covered with surprise and confusion as she tried to piece together the details surrounding his unannounced return to Orynth.

She was watching him quietly, eyes skimming over his being, perhaps checking for injuries or weapons. He wasn't sure what he expected upon their reunion. They weren't long parted friends. He didn't expect her to lunge and embrace him, but he didn't expect this either. She was just silently staring at him as she pieced together his return.

Aelin blinked. “She didn't send word, we had no idea…” the princess trailed off before slowly looking up at the prince, eyes narrowed slightly. “Take off your hood,”

Rowan did as was requested, ripping the hood from his head.

Aelin’s eyes grew wide and her jaw dropped, taking another step forward to get a better look. “Your hair! You cut it all off!”

Rowan reached up and ran a hand through his short locks. He had forgotten about that. He was used to it now. “Three years and that’s the first thing you’re worried about?”

“My apologies. How do you fare, dear prince? I am oh so glad to see that your have returned unscathed!” Aelin said, voice absolutely dripping in sarcasm as she waved a hand through the air dramatically. “Now that we’re done with that, your hair was so pretty! Did you have to cut  _ all  _ of it off?”

Rowan almost laughed. No, the princess before him hadn’t changed her sharp tongue in the years apart. “I was at war, so yes,”

Aelin opened her mouth to speak again, but shut it abruptly when another figure appeared from the shadows of the trees. She took a deep breath, eyes growing almost impossibly wide at the sight of the massive white wolf stalking towards them, lips parted in awe. By the look on her face, she could tell that he was Fae.

Fenrys came to Rowan’s side and shifted, eyes already glued on the princess before him.

Rowan didn’t miss the way Aelin’s eyes swept over the newcomer appreciatively before a little smirk settled on her lips. Her eyes were on Fenrys as she spoke again.

“Lord Fenrys, I presume?”

Fenrys grinned, reaching out and taking Aelin’s hand before pressing a kiss that perhaps lasted a moment too long to the back of it, not that the princess seemed to mind. “I see my reputation precedes me,”

“Partially. Rowan failed to mention how handsome you are. Tell me, are the rest of your companions so blessed?”

“Not quite as much as I,” Fenrys said.

Aelin let out a loud bark of laughter. “I think we are going to get along just fine, Lord Fenrys,”

Rowan reined in a sigh at the exchange. It was a strange sight to see the princess openly flirting with Fenrys. He had to keep on reminding himself that she was mature now and could make her own choices about these matters, even if dealing with the pair of them together in any manner would most likely lead to a headache. 

“Tell me, Lord Fenrys,” Aelin said. “What prompted you visit here? Not that you’re not welcome, but I’ve grown used to Rowan’s solitary, brooding presence over these years,”

“Our queen bade that Fenrys come along as a show of goodwill,” Rowan answered. “We offer you our services in the aftermath of your recent… tragedy,”

Rowan swore he saw a flash of pain across of princess’s features, but it was gone as soon as it appeared.

“We will be sure to send our thanks,” Aelin said, voice duller and emptier than it had been before, perhaps unnoticable by someone who didn’t know her well, but Rowan noticed.

Movement over Aelin’s shoulder caught his eye. The two dark-haired women stood, waiting and watching with curious eyes. Rowan nodded towards them. “Aren’t you going to introduce us to your friends, princess?”

“I suppose I should,” Aelin said, motioning to her friends to come closer. The women stood on either side of the princess. Aelin motioned to the shorter woman on her left. “You’ve met Elide Lochan before, Rowan. It’s just been a while,”

The future Lady of Perranth dipped into a curtsey, observant brown eyes studying Rowan and his companion. “It’s nice to see you again, prince, and an honor to meet you, Lord Fenrys,”

She had grown into a rather lovely girl, deep brown hair swept out of her face gracefully. She was, however, the shortest out of the group of females by a few inches and Rowan could tell she was unlikely to grow any more. 

Aelin then motioned the the woman on her right. She was about the same height as Aelin with wavy, raven hair and animal-bright green eyes. Stunning.  “This here is Lysandra, a dear friend of mine,”

The woman’s scent hit Rowan, surprise lighting through him as he recognized it.

“You’re a shifter,”

The woman, Lysandra, nodded. “That I am, prince. But you needn’t worry about any malicious intent, espionage, or spying,”

“Yes, in fact she is quite lazy and prefers lounging around my room as a cat all day,” Aelin said, raising a brow at her friend who shoved her playfully. 

“Your room has the best view!” 

The girls laughed for a few heartbeats before the princess turned back to the Fae warriors. “I suppose I should find someone to ready some rooms for you. You must be tired after the journey,”

“I’ll go let them know,” Lysandra said. “I can get there faster,”

Before Aelin could say otherwise, the woman shifted into an eagle and tore off in the direction of Orynth.

“So, she's a fully powered shifter,” Rowan commented. “They're rare nowadays,”

“Quite interesting company you keep, princess,” Fenrys said, holding out an arm for Aelin to take, delight lighting her face. 

“I'm certainly never bored,”

Rowan watched as the princess grinned, a sparkle in her eyes. No, she didn't seem like the fiery, ruthless queen that he had heard about. She seemed… happy. He knew that she must have been upset after her parents passing, but here she was, reading in the gardens and laughing with her friends. There would be a time for Rowan to discuss what had happened with her, but it was not now.

…

Aelin Ashryver Galathynius led her guests into Orynth. The guards were surprised at the sudden arrival, and so were any servants and courtiers they had passed in the halls, eyes wide as they tried to study the Fae warriors.

She knew somewhere in the keep two suites were being hastily made up for the guests and Lysandra was reporting to Orlon about the new arrivals. Aelin was glad that she didn’t have to be the one to deliver the news. She was sure her uncle wouldn’t be pleased about it. Not only had Rowan come unannounced, he had brought along a companion. Her uncle would perhaps see it at a threat of some sort, perhaps an agent of espionage… but as Aelin walked with Fenrys, she had a hard time seeing him ever having any kind of malicious intent. He was funny and kind and flirtatious, not to mention one of the most beautiful males she had ever seen. He spoke often and animatedly, filled with quips and humor. She had a hard time believing that he served alongside Rowan Whitethorn. They seemed to be polar opposites.

Rowan Whitethorn himself was another story.

She spared the silver-haired warrior a quick glance. He moved like a predator, lethal and precise as he stalked down the hall. Aelin had forgotten the power he held in his step, the way the muscles in his shoulders shifted as he moved. She supposed she could see why the soldiers of Terrasen regarded him so highly, why they told stories about him as if they were legends. She had only seen him as a pain in her ass before, but now Aelin could see that Rowan Whitethorn, the most powerful pure-blooded Fae male in the world, was truly a force to be reckoned with, and she had spent the majority of her childhood antagonizing him. 

He seemed unscathed from the war, no visible injuries that Aelin could make out. His face was as stoney as it ever was, lips pulled into a taut line and eyes scanning his surroundings. His tattoo was still dark and contrasting against the planes of his face, strong jaw clenched. His now-short hair made him look younger, and perhaps handsomer too.

Aelin blinked once at the thought. She hadn’t really considered it before, perhaps being too young to notice, but Rowan Whitethorn was rather handsome. 

Aelin quickly averted her gaze, as if her eyes would betray what she was thinking. 

“How are you enjoying our continent so far?” Aelin asked Fenrys. 

“I haven’t seen much of it yet, but what I have had the pleasure of witnessing has been very beautiful,” he said, eyes sweeping over Aelin’s face, telling the princess he wasn’t just talking about the landscape.

Shameless. He was utterly shameless, but Aelin wasn’t complaining. Most people were never so bold with her, either because she was a princess or because of Aedion lurking around with pain promised in his eye, or perhaps they were wary of her fire and her temper… it was most likely a mix of all those elements in the end. 

It wasn’t that Aelin hadn’t had suitors. She’d had them lined up for her before she had any interest in the sort. Young lord or courtiers hoping to higher their social standings, wishing for the chance to be king someday. Or foolish sons of advisor and generals looking for a chance to tumble in the sheets with her. Most of them left disappointed. 

It wasn’t that Aelin was still a maiden, no. The last summer she had spent in Rifthold where she shared her bed for a few weeks with the captain of the guard, Chaol Westfall, had made sure of that. It was a short fling, they hadn’t let it develop further than just physical attraction and friendship at the most, knowing that if they let themselves grow attached, it would only lead to pain and heartache, two things Aelin had already had enough of that past year and was the driving force that pushed her into the captain’s chambers every night. She had needed to forget, to forget about her mother and father, to forget about her responsibilities, to forget Sa-

“Your highness,” a young maid squeaked, dipping deep into a curtsey, cheeks burning red at the idea of interrupting her princess. “The suites for the guests are ready,”

“Oh, wonderful,” Aelin said, turning towards the two Fae. “I’ll leave you here to rest before dinner. Someone will fetch you later this evening,”

Rowan gave a single bob of the head, about as much thanks as he normally gave. 

“Perhaps after dinner you may grace me with a tour of the palace? It seems unfair that Whitethorn knows his way around and I don’t,” Fenrys said.

Aelin smiled and nodded. “Of course. It  _ is  _ rather unfair. Don’t want you getting lost… well, maybe Rowan wouldn’t mind you getting lost,”

The golden-haired Fae laughed. “I think you may be right. I will see you later this evening,”

Fenrys turned to follow the maid, Aelin a heartbeat away from heading her own way when her gaze caught Rowan’s. The look in his green eyes made her pause. It seemed like he wanted to say something, the words right on the tip of his tongue, brows bunched together ever so slightly. But, he said nothing, falling in-step with Fenrys and disappearing down the hall.

Aelin shook herself slightly before the thoughts of what the strange look meant overtook her for the afternoon. She needed a clear head when she went to speak with her uncle.

Aelin took off down the halls in the direction of Orlon’s office, only making it a few halls down before a familiar presence was beside her.

“Your uncle knows Rowan and a companion have arrived,” Lysandra said in a low voice. “He and Darrow are waiting to speak with you about it,”

“So I figured,” Aelin sighed. “I want you to watch and listen when you can, see if anything’s suspicious,” 

So, they may have lied about the ‘no spying’ thing.

“Well, it’s not the worse thing to do,” Lysandra said, glancing at Aelin with a raised brow and a wicked smile. “They’re rather handsome, and the pretty one if awfully smitten with you,”

“Can you blame him?” Aelin said. “I’m stunning,”

“I will agree, you do look ravishing in that dress,”

Aelin nudged Lysandra with her elbow. “You big flirt,”

Lysandra blew a kiss. “Only for you,”

The girls shared a laughed before the princess’s expression grew serious again. “Be careful when you’re doing this. Their senses are stronger than most people’s and they’ll recognize your scent in an instant,”

“I’ve got it, don’t worry,” Lysandra said, flipping her hair behind her shoulder. “I’ve had plenty of practice with you and I trying to avoid Aedion and sneak out,”

Aelin shrugged. Her friend did have a solid point. 

The stopped outside the ornate oak doors of Orlon office, Aelin steeling herself with a deep, steady breath. Lysandra placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“Good luck,”

Lysandra breezed down the halls, leaving Aelin alone. The princess tapped her knuckles on the door, a nicety she normally didn’t bother with but she was sure her uncle was on edge, and opened the door.

Orlon was seated behind his desk, Darrow perched on the edge of it. Both of their eyes flickered to Aelin as she shut the door behind her. The King of Terrasen looked… tired. Aelin knew this last year had been hard on him, as it had been on her with the loss of her parents and the short-lived war with Melisande, but it had shown on him more. It looked like he had aged decades, eyes heavy and skin wrinkled. His hair was fully white and growing thinner with each passing day. He walked slower and with a slight hunch, as if he felt the weight of the kingdom upon his once-broad shoulders at every moment in the day.

“Aelin,” Orlon said, his brown eyes brightening at the sight of his niece. “You look lovely today,”

“Thank you, uncle,” she smiled. “And although I would love to hear compliments about myself all day, I’m sure that’s not why I’ve been summoned here,”

“No, I suppose it is not,” Orlon said.

Aelin settled herself into one of the seats across from her uncle, scanning his desk. Taxes, reports for the lords, nothing that would be too draining on him today. Pressed in glass sitting on the right corner of his desk was a little red flower. Kingsflame. It had been so long since the last one had bloomed before the solitary bud that grew for Orlon. They said that if the kingsflame bloomed under someone’s rule, then it was blessed. This flower had bloomed for her uncle.

“I find it worrisome that not just one, but two of Maeve’s warriors show up unannounced,” Orlon said, leaning back in his chair with his fingers resting on his stomach.

“Did they give any reason for their sudden arrival? Or the fact that Maeve sent another?” Darrow asked.

Aelin shrugged. “If they traveled at top speed, I’m sure they could easily beat any messenger Maeve could have dispatched. I’d expect to get a letter from her in the following week,” she explained. “As to why she sent Lord Fenrys alongside Rowan… they said that it was a symbol of goodwill, that Maeve would loan out another one of her warriors to us in this…  _ trying  _ time,”

“I don’t quite trust it,” Darrow said, looking towards Orlon.

“Neither do I,” Orlon said, eyes narrowed an intent as he thought. “With the blood oath, she could easily force them not to say a word about their true intentions. They couldn’t slip up even if they tried,”

“Prince Whitethorn has spent years in the keep, however,” Darrow pointed out, rubbing his jaw pensively. “And he has never done anything out of ill-will,”

Orlon hummed in acknowledgement before glancing up. “What do you think, Aelin?”

It was a question he had asked in increasing frequency in the past year. Now that her ascent to the throne had been moved up much earlier than anticipated, Orlon had been involving her in court life more and more, asking her opinions, her advice. He and the rest of Terrasen’s court wanted to see what kind of queen Aelin Ashryver Galathynius would be. 

The princess bit the inside of her lip as she thought. “I understand where the distrust surrounding the blood oath comes from and it is a completely valid concern, and now would be a good time to strike the heart of Terrasen if she wanted to do it harm, but she has never shown interest in doing that in the past. When I spoke to Lord Fenrys, he seemed like a trustworthy male. I know it doesn’t count for much, but my gut tells me we should trust him… and, if I’m wrong, I’ve already got Lysandra on it,”

The corners of Orlon’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. “A gut feeling does count. Trust your instincts… good job with Lysandra. A good choice,”

Aelin smiled at the praise but wasn’t given long to appreciate it before the doors banged open and her insufferable cousin swept in.

“Whitethorn’s back?” he asked unceremoniously, ruffling Aelin’s hair and plopping down in the chair beside her, thoroughly ignoring the vicious snarl she sent his way for messing with her hair.

“Yes, prince Whitethorn returned earlier this afternoon,” Orlon said, running a critical eye over Aedion's filthy training leathers. “And he's brought a companion,”

“Who?”

“The White Wolf of Doranelle,” Aelin responded. 

Aedion's eyes went wide. “Truly? What is he doing here?”

Aelin released a sigh and pushed up from her seat. “Had you been here five minutes earlier, cousin, you would have heard us discussing these matters. However, I don't want to sit through this story again, I think I'm going to go prepare myself for dinner,” she raised a brow at her cousin, nose scrunching. “And you may wish to bathe, Aedion. You stink and you're going to make our guests’ eyes water,”

Aedion made an obscene gesture at his younger cousin as she swept from the study and gently shut the doors behind her, releasing a deep breath she hadn’t been aware she had been holding. She had crossed the first mountain of this visit. She hoped there wouldn’t be any other unsuspecting challenges in the near future. 

Well, she assumed they would be training soon at least. In the three years of Rowan’s absence, Aelin almost figured she wouldn’t have to train with him again. She had turned eighteen in the previous year, she had control over her powers and skills with her blades that she had been continuously honing without Rowan there. 

A tiny smirk found its way to Aelin lips as she thought about it. Yes, she had been training and improving greatly in the last three years. Perhaps she would, for once, surprise Rowan Whitethorn. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg I got so many comments on the last chapter!! thank you guys so so much for the support! this story has gotten a much bigger response than I expected and I'm so happy to see people are enjoying a little story that I pretty much started writing to keep myself amused. Lmk what you guys think!!!! I'm always so happy to read yalls thoughts about it! <3


	12. Chapter 12

Aelin headed to her rooms to prepare for dinner, which would now be a much more formal event than it was originally planned to be this evening. 

She removed her circlet and jewelry, placing them back in her already overflowing jewelry box. She would have to see about getting another one or perhaps a larger one sometime in the near future. 

Aelin threw open the doors of her overstuffed wardrobe and began rifling through the velvets, silks and satins of her fine gowns. It had been too long since she had bought a new dress. The princess made a small mental note to take Lysandra and Elide into the city sometime soon for some shopping. They deserved it, after all. 

Aelin plucked out a deep red gown, bit her lip as she studied it for a moment before shoving it back into her wardrobe. No, it didn’t feel quite right. She repeated the process with three other gowns before a dove swept in through the open doors from her balcony and shifted into a very naked Lysandra.

“I can’t find anything to wear for tonight!” the woman exclaimed. 

“I can tell,” Aelin said. “Could you please put on a dressing gown? You’re very distracting,”

“What, you don’t like what you see?” Lysandra said, planting her hands on her hips. 

“You’re shameless,” Aelin shook her head, throwing a silk robe at her friend. “ _ Utterly  _ shameless,”

“You didn’t seem to mind last winter,” Lysandra said, waggling her brows. “Remember? Snowed in, two bottles of wine, furs-”

“Of course I remember,” Aelin said, fighting the blush that threatened to bloom across her cheeks at the memory. “I also remember you whining for hours about how cold it was!”

Lysandra crossed her arms over her chest. “It was my first northern winter! We’re not all born and bred in the snow… and I certainly don’t have fire powers!”

“No, but you did shift into a snow leopard and terrorize Aedion for days,”

Lysandra snorted. “Yes, I did do that, didn’t I?” 

The woman came next to Aelin, pulling out a lovely black gown, almost too scandalous for dinner, but Lysandra, like Aelin, enjoyed pushing boundaries. 

“Can I borrow this?”

“Of course,” Aelin said before snatching a pair of emerald earrings and matching necklace from her pile of jewelry. “And wear these too. They bring out your eyes,”

Lysandra plopped herself down in front of Aelin’s vanity, holding up the sparkling jewels to her ears and smiling like a fiend. “Excellent eye, as always,”

“Now, get off your ass and help find  _ me  _ something to wear,” 

Lysandra stood and tapped her finger against her bottom lip as she examined the wardrobe before snatching up a dark blue gown that had heavy, exquisite gold beading across the entire dress. 

“I haven’t worn this one in ages,” Aelin said, shimmying out of her afternoon dress and sliding into the fresh one. 

It was beautifully made, cut perfectly to her form with long sleeves and a high collar that brushed the base of her neck. The modesty of the cut was offset slightly by the keyhole that dipped down the middle of the chest, from her collar bones to just before her navel, giving a glimpse of skin below. Perfect. 

“You’re the perfect mix of beautiful and terrifying,” Lysandra said.

“Exactly the look I hoped to achieve,”

The women then took the time to fix up their hair and cosmetics, picking out jewelry to compliment their gowns and what shoes were most appropriate. Before they knew it, it was time to brave whatever could come from that night’s dinner. 

Aelin and Lysandra swept out from the princess’s chambers. The gold beading of Aelin’s gown glimmered and shone in the orange light of the candles and torches that lined the halls, looking ever like the future queen she was. Powerful, untouchable, walking side by side by a dangerous shifter as an equal. 

“What do you think your training is going to be like now?” Lysandra asked. 

“If it’s anything like it was when I was younger, hell,” Aelin said.

Lysandra cringed. “It was that bad?”

“When I was younger, yes,” Aelin explained. “Rowan Whitethorn was, to be kind, a dick. However, we had come to a sort of truce before he left. Let’s hope it still stands,” 

“He seemed polite earlier,” Lysandra added. 

“Yes, but when we start training, it’s all snarling and teeth baring and cursing,” the princess said, remembering the weeks they had spent antagonizing one another. “On both ends,”

“Is it weird that I’m a little curious? Is it like when you and Aedion go at it?”

“Worse,”

“I can attest to that,” another voice piped in. 

Aelin and Lysandra whipped their heads to the new sound, finding Fenrys and Rowan coming down the hall being led by a squeamish servant boy who looked like he would rather be anywhere else.

“Oh, so I wasn’t the only one who is familiar with Prince Rowan’s style of teaching?” Aelin said, raising a brow at the silver-haired prince.

“No, you are not,” Rowan answered. “Fenrys is the only one who challenges you as the most difficult, stubborn, and pig-headed student,”

Aelin beamed, and Rowan narrowed his green eyes at her.

_ That wasn’t a compliment.  _ He seemed to say. 

“Lysandra and I can handle these two from here,” Aelin said to the servant boy, who seemed immensely relieved to be dismissed.

“Don’t you two ladies look lovely tonight?” Fenrys grinned.

“I know we’ve only met today, Lord Fenrys, but I look beautiful every night,” Lysandra said with a pretty smile.

“I can see why you two are such good friends” Rowan murmured to Aelin, the princess flashing him a grin. 

“I think we’ve dallied long enough,” Fenrys said, turning towards the princess and holding out an arm. “Shall we?”

“We shall,” Aelin said, placing a hand on Fenrys’s arm and standing close to the young Fae lord. 

Well, the dinner wouldn’t be  _ all  _ terrible, she supposed.

...

Aelin looked like a queen.

The way she walked, the way she held herself with her shoulders back and chin pointed ever so slightly into the air… even though she didn't wear a crown, there was no denying that she had been born to rule. 

Rowan felt eyes studying him closely, looking to his left and finding the shifter's bright gaze on him. When she noticed his attention, her lips spread into a feline smile.

“I like your fangs,”

“Are you planning to take my form any time soon?” Rowan asked.

“No, I don't tend to take the forms of friends or acquaintances unless it's an emergency,” Lysandra said. 

“Or if you want to torment my dear cousin,” Aelin added.

“Oh, yes that is always fun,” the woman smiled. “Aedion hates it when I take his form and walk around in one of my gowns,”

“But I love it so,” the princess said, releasing a peal of laughter that was shared by the green-eyed shifter.

Of course, Aelin and her friend would find ways to take their dangerous, coveted skill sets and make fun with them. He almost felt bad for Aedion and the nonsense he must put up with.

Aedion…

The Ashryver prince would present another set of challenges. Fenrys would immediately scent who sired him, would learn that Gavriel had a son on the continent. Rowan would only hope that Fenrys would make the same judgement he would regarding keeping the truth from their comrade.

Rowan would be surprised if Fenrys even noticed anything with how absorbed he was with the princess. It was a miracle that he hadn’t walked into something since he hadn’t been watching where he was going. Rowan tried to keep his distaste to himself at the thought of their pair together. 

They soon came upon the fine dining rooms. Orlon and Darrow were already seated. Elide stood speaking with what must have been Ren Allsbrook, who had grown in the few years apart and filled out more. Beside him, was Aedion Ashryver. The golden-haired prince had grown even taller and stronger during the past three years, looking just like the warrior that the stories described him as. He glanced over his shoulder when he heard the sound of their footsteps. He looked even more like Gavriel now.

The man tensed as he looked at Rowan and Fenrys, his grip tightening on the goblet on wine in his hand. His Fae blood was definitely strong, judging by how he puffed himself up, trying to display some sense of power.

Fenrys narrowed his dark eyes at the prince, standing taller.

Aedion’s gaze flickered to Fenrys’s arm that his younger cousin was currently clutching before his eyes flashed with murderous intent.

“You all are absolutely insufferable!” Aelin cried, dropping the warrior's arm and rolling her eyes. “This dominance battle is ridiculous,”

“It’s a little bit entertaining,” Lysandra said.

“How do you all make it down the street if you’re going to have a staring contest with every male in your path?” Aelin asked, glowering at the males accusingly.

Fenrys made a face. “We don't do that,”

“You're doing it right now!”

“I presume you are Lord Fenrys,” Orlon interrupted before the squabble could continue.

Fenrys turned towards the aging king and bowed deeply. “Aye, your majesty,”

“I welcome you to our home,” the man said before gazing towards Rowan. “Prince Whitethorn. We are glad to have you returned to our halls,”

Rowan bowed. “I am honored to be back,”

Orlon looked… old. Frail, weak. His hair was thin and as white as the northern snows, his back hunched slightly as if the antler crown grew heavier and heavier each passing day. He no longer walked with the sure step that he had once did, but rather shuffled. Aelin came beside her uncle and put a gentle hand on his arm, as if to steady him.

“Well, now that all those…  _ pleasantries  _ are done with, I suppose we could eat,” the princess said with a smile.

Rowan watched as the princess walked her uncle to the head of the table. Without Rhoe and Evalin there, Aelin and her cousin had moved up the table towards their uncle, a reminder about how close she now was to the throne. Aelin sat at Orlon's right while Rowan was across from her at the king's left. It was a strange shift. She had always been down towards the end of the table with the children, but Aelin Galathynius wasn't a child anymore.

Fenrys sat beside Rowan, across from Aedion. The silver-haired prince held his breath as he discretely studied the White Wolf of Doranelle, watching as his nostrils flared slightly and barely concealed surprise lit his face. Yes, he definitely recognized who Aedion's father was. Fenrys cut Rowan a quick glance, almost too fast to be noticed, before looking away. He wouldn't say anything for now, much to Rowan's immense relief. 

A goblet of wine was placed before Rowan and the other seated at the long table before servants began streaming out with heaps of steaming food. 

Rowan felt multiple pairs of eyes studying him. Aedion and Ren and Orlon and Darrow all staring at he and Fenrys as if they would spring up and try to siege the city at any moment. He met Aelin's gaze for a moment, an apologetic look on her face as she shrugged and took a sip of her wine.

_ Sorry about that,  _ she seemed to say.

_ I'm used to it _ .

Aelin smirked into her goblet and began cutting into her roasted chicken as the first wave of questions came upon Rowan and Fenrys.

The Fae prince was used to this routine by now. Asking about his travels, of Doranelle, carefully crafted questions that tried to trick them into revealing something, as if they were hiding any other than vague suspicions about their queen. Aelin was being uncharacteristically quiet, letting her uncle and his lover lead the conversations.

“Have you continued training, Aelin?” Rowan asked.

The princess’s eyes snapped up, seeming surprised that he was speaking to her. She swallowed her mouthful of wine before speaking.

“Yes, of course I have,” she said. “I told you I would, didn’t I? Or are you accusing me of not keeping my word?”

“I don’t believe I said any of that,”

“She’s trained, prince,” Aedion spoke up. “She can best all of my men now, not to mention scare the piss out of them,” 

“You failed to mention that she kicks your ass too,” Lysandra piped up, raising a brow at the Ashryver prince. 

“Yes, well, when he left last I could still beat up on her,” Aedion said. 

“Did that make you feel good about yourself?” Ren asked. “Beating up your little cousin?”

“You only say that because Aelin has been able to knock you on your ass since she was thirteen,” Elide murmured. 

So, this would be Aelin’s court. Rowan was watching the future of Terrasen before his very eyes. They would all have responsibilities and power thrust upon them sooner than later, judging by Orlon’s steadily aging state. Watching as they joked and laughed and teased, Rowan nearly felt disheartened thinking of how short of time they had left to be so carefree.

“Will we be beginning our training again tomorrow then?” Aelin asked. “Dawn? The normal spot?”

“Yes, if that is what you wish,” Rowan said.

“And will Lord Fenrys be joining us?”

“If he deigns to get out of bed by dawn, I suppose he could,” Rowan said, looking towards his companion.

“Dawn may just be slightly too early for me,” Fenrys said, leaning back in his seat. “Especially so soon after a journey!”

“Have you grown sleepy in your old age?” Aelin teased.

Fenrys narrowed his eyes. “ _ I  _ am not old. Whitethorn is old, Lorcan is even older,”

“Yes, and I suppose that makes my dear aunt older than dirt,” Aelin said.

Rowan noted the sharp and disapproving glances her uncle and her cousin shot her for her words, but the princess did a fantastic job at pretending not to notice them. She had never spoke out against Maeve before, not that she had said anything particularly nasty, but it hadn't been a compliment either. While her parents had been here, they tried to avoid the topic of Maeve all together, but it seemed like Aelin didn't feel like tiptoeing around the subject anymore.

Thankfully, any tension that may have lingered in the air was shooed away by desert being brought in from the kitchens.

They finished the meal without the conversation drifting to any more tense topics. Fenrys asked Aedion about his legion and about training, trading stories, one general to another. Rowan noted how neither explicitly mentioned the wars they had both been involved in during the past three years. 

“How long will you be staying in Orynth this time?” Darrow questions, brows knitted together.

“My queen bade that I stay for a year,” Rowan said. “It would cover the time promised that we were unable to fulfill before,”

A beat of silence.

“I see,” said Orlon, chewing on that bit of information. “That is understandable, and most efficient,”

For mortals, a year was a rather long period of time. He could understand their hesitation at the length, but the king was right. It was more efficient. He would train Aelin as promised and then leave. They would never see one another again and they could move on with their lives. 

Eventually, conversation slowly began to bloom around the table, filling the tense silence that had stood before.

Rowan glanced at Aelin once again. Her eyes were pointed towards the other end of the table as she took a bite of the lemon cake that had been served. He wondered if it would be appropriate to ask her about her parents’ deaths, about the battle she had fought in. They had shared things with one another before, almost as friends would, not that a three hundred year old immortal warrior could really be friends with a then sixteen year old princess,  but they had grown to respect one another, something Rowan hoped would still stand when they began training again in the morning. She had time to adjust, but not long. He was sure those wounds still stung.

Desert was soon finished, the plates cleared away by quick and quiet servants. Orlon stood. followed by the rest of those seated at the table. The old king bade them a good night before taking his lover's arm and shuffling towards his own suites. Rowan didn't miss how Aelin's lips tightened ever so slightly at the sight, but it was gone in a blink, replaced by the jaunty, playful smirk that tended to grace her lips.

“I believe I promised you a tour, Lord Fenrys,” she said, glancing towards the young Fae.

“Yes, I believe you did,” he replied, holding out an arm yet again for the princess to take.

The princess smiled at her friends, her future court, and said quick goodbyes. Lysandra sent a knowing wink that Aelin rolled her eyes at. 

“I'll see you in the morning, Rowan,” Aelin said. “Bright and early,”

“I didn't think either of those words were in your vocabulary,”

Aelin grinned broadly at his sharp banter. “My vocabulary is spectacular, thank you. I have oh so many words for you!”

Rowan shook his head slightly, but couldn't stop the corners of his lips from curling up. 

_ Don't be late _ , his face seemed to say.

_ I wouldn't dream of it.  _ There was a glimmer in the princess’ eyes before she finally turned heel and diverted her attention back to Fenrys.

This time, Rowan couldn't hold back the cringe at the thought of what mayhem the two of them would come up with.

…

It was late by the time Fenrys wandered back to his rooms. The princess had been thorough in her tour, showing him all around the keep from the great hall to the library of Orynth, which was far more impressive than Fenrys ever could have imagined. There was a brightness in Aelin's when she was in there. She was content, at peace, stunning. 

Her quick wit and sharp tongue was infinitely entertaining and drew him closer. He wanted to see a glimpse of her mighty power, of her skill with the blades that he had heard stories of, but those would wait until later. 

Fenrys parted with the princess with another lingering kiss to the back of her hand and a promise to see her again the next day.

The journey was finally beginning to weigh down on the Fae warrior as he reached the ornate doors to the room. Traveling as fast as they had would wear down even the strongest of wills. 

Fenrys pushed open the doors, ready to bathe and collapse into bed before a voice spoke up from the dark corner of his room.

“Enjoy yourself?”

Fenrys's keen eyes made out the tall figure perched in the desk chair, the light of the moon gilding his silver hair.

“You shouldn't sneak up on people like that, Whitethorn,” Fenrys drawled, unclasping his tunic. “You might end up with a dagger in your gut,”

“I can handle whatever you throw at me, boyo,” Rowan said, standing from the seat and striding across the room until he was standing right before Fenrys. The younger Fae looked at him, at the hard expression on his commander’s face, knowing there was only one reason for this unexpected visit.

“Aedion Ashryver is Gavriel’s son,” Fenrys said simply.

“Yes,”

“And you’ve known this for eleven years,” the golden-haired Fae stated. “And said nothing,”

A shallow nod.

Fenrys sighed, running a hand through his curls. “Part of me wants to tell him. Gavriel deserves to know,”

“There was a good reason why his mother never contacted Gavriel,” Rowan murmured. “You know that more than most,”

Fenrys’s face darkened slightly. He spoke of the blood oath, the binding that he abhorred and fought against every day. It wasn’t known for sure if those shackles would extend to Aedion as well, but it wasn’t something that he would risk. He wouldn’t be the one to upend the boy’s life, to rip him away from his home and family.

“So, we say nothing then?” Fenrys asked.

Rowan nodded, but the look on his face told Fenrys that he was less than happy about it. They had all fought and killed and drunk together for hundreds of years, they didn’t keep things from one another, especially not something as important as this. But… there was no other option.  ****  
** **

“Fine,” Fenrys sighed. “ _ Fine.  _ Now, please get out so I may change. I wouldn’t want you to feel self-conscious,”

Rowan narrowed his eyes at him, a look he was familiar with. It hardly fazed him anymore.

The silver-haired warrior turned to leave before pausing and glancing back at Fenrys. 

“What are your intentions with the princess?”

Fenrys raised a brow and crossed his arms over his chest. “What is any male's intention with a beautiful female?”

Rowan frowned. “She will be queen soon,”

“Yes, and?”

Rowan sighed in defeat, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just don't do anything foolish,”

“I wouldn't dare,” Fenrys said, but Rowan didn't look convinced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another chapter! again, nothing too exciting here but I hope you all enjoy anyway! I love to hear what you guys are thinking so far, what you like, any predictions... and I reached 3000 hits so thank you! lmk how you guys like it:)


	13. Chapter 13

Rowan awoke at dawn and prepared himself for the day with the same cold efficiency he had for the past centuries. He adorned himself with weapons as others wore jewelry, strapping on hidden daggers and his vambraces. 

He ate his breakfast and drank his tea quickly before heading out, just as the sun began to creep up the sky.

Rowan noted that there were new and unfamiliar courtiers and servants that gawked at him as he made his way through the halls. He tried to ignore these stares to the best of his ability.

He came upon the towering oak doors of the keep where he met Aelin for training, but there was already a figure standing there. Not just any figure, but Aelin herself. She had beaten him here, a feat she had never once accomplished. 

She was donned in a deep green tunic and brown trousers. Well-worn boots were laced up to her knees, her golden hair braided back tightly and swinging between her shoulder blades. Strapped to her thigh was the blade he had gifted her. He was glad that she was beginning to keep herself armed, something she hadn't done when she was younger. She was a princess, soon to be a queen. Her life would always be in jeopardy.

She looked over her shoulder when she heard him approaching, the early morning sun making her turquoise eyes flash brightly. 

“Hm, a bit late, aren't we?” Aelin murmured, tucking a stray strand of her hair behind a delicately pointed ear.

“I didn't think you were physically able to rise so early,” Rowan said.

“Well, I wish I could say get used to it, but I know myself too well for that,” Aelin joked. “I just didn't want to start the day off with getting scolded,”

“You may still get scolded if I find that you haven't been practicing enough,”

Aelin raised a brow. “Have you no faith in me, prince?”

“I suppose it was a good sign that you were able to notice me yesterday,” Rowan mused. “You seemed prepared the shove the dagger I gave you into my gut,”

Aelin's hand drifted to the blade at her thigh. “Wouldn't that have been achingly, tragically poetic?”

“I think it would have been painful,”

The princess tossed her head back with a laugh, the sound bright and jolly. Rowan enjoyed this rapport with the princess, matching her quick wit. There was something more casual about it now, perhaps because the princess had matured. He was no longer dealing with a child, their dynamic had shifted.

“So,” the princess breathed, glancing out towards the sprawl of the Oakwald. “We starting our day off as usual?”

“Yes,” Rowan said. “I'm not going to take it easy on you even if we haven't trained in a while,”

The princess sent him a feline smirk. “Promise?”

Before Rowan could even think of a response, she tore off towards the sea of green. He only hesitated a half a heartbeat before taking off after her, slipping easily back into their old routine. 

She had definitely gotten faster, there was no denying it. Aelin moved like nothing he had ever seen before, lithe and speedy, a potentially deadly combination for any enemies. 

She banked and swerved around gnarled, ancient trees as if she knew where every one stood, as if she had memorized the layout of the entire forest. He supposed it was close enough. The Oakwald was Brannon's forest, and Brannon's fiery blood now pumped through Aelin's veins. It was her forest, it was nearly a part of her. 

Rowan realized that he had missed this, had missed the exhilaration that came with running through these woods, testing his body's limits and feeling the cool, northern winds whip against his face. He hadn't the chance to do anything of the sort in the past three years. It was nearly liberating. 

Rowan didn't know how far or for how long they ran and assumed Aelin didn't know or care either. He caught glimpses of her face when she would glance back to see how far behind Rowan was. She was exhilarated, eyes wide and bright and wild. 

She burst through a thick bit of undergrowth, disappearing from his sight for a moment before he followed, finding himself alone in a small clearing. He couldn't hear her footsteps or her breath, couldn't find tracks on the forest floor. Rowan stopped and sent a sweeping gaze across the clearing, straining his ears and scenting the air. Still, nothing.

Until he sensed a presence charging at his back. Rowan swiftly turned around, three hundred years of training acting on instinct as he grabbed the body firmly and slammed it against the nearest tree, pinning them hard against the bark.

Turquoise eyes met his, hardly seeming bothered by the forearm pressed against her windpipe and the hand binding her wrists over her head.

Aelin had a smarmy little smile on her face as she looked at him.

“You'll have to be better than that,” Rowan snarled.

Aelin tilted her chin up in the air ever so slightly. “I almost had you, didn't I?” 

Rowan was close enough that he could feel her breath ghost over his face, could feel the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed against his own, too close. Rowan released the princess, her booted feet hitting the forest floor softly. She smoothed her hair back as she looked up at him.

“You have gotten faster,” Rowan said.

Aelin raised her brows. “That was nearly a compliment,”

_ Don't get used to it _ , Rowan seemed to say.

“I ran every morning,” Aelin continued, looking around the woods around her. “Every day, I would go further and further. I love it, pushing myself, going that fast… it was a good to escape, to forget-”

The princess cut herself off, something like a flash of pain going through her eyes before it fizzled out, replaced by one of her easy smiles.

Rowan looked at the princess critically for a few more moments before deciding it best to not pry about whatever had gone through her head. 

“And have you been training with your powers?” he asked.

“Every day,”

“Any developments?”

Aelin's brows knitted together as she gnawed on her bottom lip. “It's been getting… stronger,”

“Stronger?”

The princess nodded. “It just feels like… more. If I don’t use it, then I feel like I’ll explode, so I have to release it in small bursts on small things, like lighting torches to keeping candles burning,”

Rowan nodded. “I understand. It’s normal for those with stronger abilities to have to use their powers on frivolous things to reduce the strain,”

“It’s normal?” Aelin said, looking immensely relieved. “It’s something that you have to do?”

“Yes,” Rowan said, cocking his head to the side. “There were no other magic users here who could answer your questions?”

Aelin gave a tiny shrug. “I asked, but their powers weren’t like mine… like ours. It was different for them. The Fae of this continent aren't like than those of Doranelle, if you and Fenrys are representatives,”

Rowan pressed his lips together. Aelin’s powers were of rare quality and strength, it was no wonder why no one was able to help her. If he had been there, he would have been able to guide her as her powers deepened and developed. He remembered how volatile his own magic had felt when he had reached maturity, how even  _ Rowan,  _ who had been training with his magic since birth, felt worried he could lose control.

“Who have you been training with your magic with?” Rowan asked.

“Whoever is brave enough to face me,” Aelin smirked. “Sometimes, I could find a magic user but they were never much of a challenge. I practiced by myself mostly,”

“Swordplay?”

“Aedion and his men,” 

“Are they truly frightened of you?”

A vicious grin. “Absolutely mortified,” she said. “And why shouldn’t they be? The rumors say I’m a fire-breathing bitch with a penchant for cruelty and violence,”

“What rumors?”

“They’ve been floating around for about a year,” Aelin said, examining her nails. 

“That’s not you,”

“You haven’t been here for three years,” Aelin said, eyes snapping up to his. “It could be,”

Rowan firmly shook his head. “I know it’s not,”

Aelin took a step closer, tilting her head back to see him better. She crossed her arms over her chest, jaw clenched slightly as if she were bracing herself. “I’ve done bad things, Rowan. I’ve…  _ hurt  _ others,”

“There’s no choice in war, Aelin,” Rowan said. “People get hurt. It’s not your fault,”

“No, no! It wasn’t in the war it was-” Aelin cut herself off with a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. She shook her head, forcing a smile onto her face. “We’re here to train, not talk. Besides, I haven’t had a challenge in too long,”

Rowan hesitated. Clearly, there was something on Aelin’s mind, something had happened that had her wracked with guilt… but she didn’t want to talk about it. Perhaps, she just didn’t want to tell him in particular. Part of him hoped she would confide in her cousin or perhaps the shifter. Keeping it bottled up wouldn’t do her any good, not with her already volatile temper.

“Very well, then,” Rowan said. “Let’s see what you can do,”

… ****  
** **

Rowan Whitethorn was a force of nature.

She had forgotten how he moved, the speed, the strength, the power. He had stopped her surprise attack without a second thought, a move she had thrown men to the ground with and nearly broke bones. He had her arms pinned before she had even realized what had happened. 

She had grown bored with fighting the men around Terrasen. They had presented a challenge at first, when she had been younger and smaller and more inexperienced. But she had taken every loss, every bruise, and learned from them until even Aedion could only best her half the time. 

And now…

Every clash of their steel invigorated her, ducking and twirling and cursing every time the tip of his knives nicked her. 

Fighting him was a thrill, unlike anything she had ever experienced. 

If she had been training with him every day for the last three years… gods, Aelin’s skill would have been unimaginable. She would make him train her longer and harder, even if she had to beg. She  _ would  _ be able to best him one day… but, not today.

Aelin’s blade was thrown from her hand before she was knocked onto the forest floor, for the third time. 

“Fuck,” Aelin groaned, looking up at the branches before her, dappled with sunlight, before a shadow eclipsed her from above.

“Filthy mouth you’ve got there, princess,” Fenrys drawled.

“That’s mild for her,” Rowan said, stalking a bit closer.

Aelin flashed a grin up at the two males. “Would you like to hear more?”

Fenrys held out a hand and helped haul the princess from the ground. “Perhaps not so early on in the day,”

“We’ve been up for hours already,” Aelin said, brushing dead leaves and dirt off her trousers.

“Unlike Whitethorn, some of us like to rest after weeks of travel,” Fenrys said. 

“It’s nearly impossible to drag you out of bed before noon on a good day,” Rowan pointed out. 

“Well, I’m here now,” Fenrys stated, planting his hands on his hips. “Let’s continue,”

Aelin watched a muscle of Rowan’s jaw twitch in annoyance at his younger comrade. She wondered how they managed to last as long as they did without Rowan attempting to kill him. Perhaps he already had.

“What kind of magic do you possess?” Aelin asked the golden-haired Fae, trying to diffuse the tension. 

As an answer, Fenrys disappeared from where he stood before her before reappearing right behind her back, thoroughly startling the princess enough that she gasped and threw back an elbow into his nose.

Fenrys cursed as his head rocked back, clutching at his face. Aelin slapped a hand to her mouth, but Rowan let out a dry laugh.

“Good reflexes,” the prince praised.

“Oh gods, I’m so sorry!” Aelin said with a cringe.

“It’s alright,” Fenrys said, checking for any blood but finding none. “I suppose I kind of deserved that,”

“How… how do you do that?” Aelin said, looking back and forth between the spot he had just occupied and where he now stood. “I’ve never seen anything like it,”

“I can’t really explain it, I can just do it. Connall and I both,”

“Where… where do you go in between?”

Fenrys scratched be back as his head as he tried to come up with a coherent response. “It’s an… inbetween, I suppose. It’s dark, there’s nothing there. I could show you if you’d like,”

“No!” blurted Aelin automatically, taking a step away from him.

Fenrys smirked at her reaction. “Scared, princess?”

Aelin narrowed her eyes. “I have a few magic tricks that will definitely frighten you if you keep this up,”

Fenrys opened his mouth to retort, but was cut off by Rowan.

“If you keep on antagonizing her, she'll make you regret it,”

“I do not doubt that,”

“Again, with the talking!” Aelin rolled her eyes before engulfing her hand in bright, orange flame. “Let's have some fun,”

…

Aelin’s magic had most certainly gotten stronger. Her flames were brighter, hotter if she willed, and more controlled. Rowan was impressed. He could tell she had been practicing, fine-tuning the lessons that he had given her before he had left. He started out simple, running the princess through easy drills so he could see where her skill level was currently.

Fenrys could hardly take his eyes off the princess as she conjured shapes of flame, as they flickered in a rainbow of burning color. She could encircle the entire glade with half a thought and keep it burning strong, probably throughout the night if needed. Aelin Galathynius could most likely entrap an entire army within a wall of her flames and not break a sweat. 

He could see why any other kingdoms nearby would be wary of her, why the rumors she spoke of arose. Aelin was powerful, and she still had room for improvement. With Terrasen’s army, she could easily conquer neighboring territories, create an empire. Rowan could never see the princess doing anything of the sort, but she had the possibility, which made others frightened. He wondered if there had been any attempts on her life, if perhaps the attack on her parents was made to kill her as well before she could ascend to the throne. She never had guards around her, not that she couldn’t take care of herself, but most royalty had a small cabal of well-trained guards to keep them safe. 

As the day wore on, Rowan could tell the princess was growing bored with the endless drills he made her do, the little exercises that seemed boring but were excellent measures of her skill and control. But, she did well. She kept her focus even with Fenrys trying to distract her with humorous quips throughout the training.

“That’s enough for today,” Rowan said as the afternoon melted into the evening.

Aelin looked to him incredulously, her fires blinking out. “That’s it?”

“We’ve been training since dawn,”

“I can go for longer,” the princess insisted. “I’m not even tired,”

“I never thought I would see the day where you wanted to train for longer,” Rowan said.

Aelin crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes at him.  _ Prick. _

_ Brat. _

“Well, I for one am hungry,” Fenrys added, oblivious of the stare-off between the two.

Aelin huffed and swiped at a few stray strands of her hair that had floated in her face. “I suppose it’s high time for dinner anyway,”

...

“Aelin Galathynius is awfully bold with you,” Fenrys commented as he and Rowan made their way back to their suites, the princess having already parted with them to bathe and prepare for the evening.

“That she is,”

“I’ve never seen anyone talk to you like she does,” Fenrys said, head cocked to the side. “Full grown males stink of fear when you look at them the wrong way, but the princess doesn’t seem to care. I can’t tell if she is brave or foolish,”

“She’s just stubborn,” Rowan said. “She wasn’t even a decade old when I first came to Terrasen. I don’t think she really knew who I was, didn’t understand.”

Fenrys snorted slightly. “She probably just sees you as a glorified babysitter,”

Rowan shot his companion a sharp look. If Aelin spoke to him more freely than anyone else, Fenrys was right behind her. It had led to brawls in the past when someone hadn’t been there to stop it before Rowan’s near-infinite well of patience ran dry. 

“Aelin Galathynius isn’t foolish,” Rowan said at length. “But she also isn’t frightened of many things, which leads to her doing reckless things,”

“Well, she seems much more fun than any other royalty I’ve met,”

Yes, the princess had a wild soul and a heart of flame. Rowan could see the spark in her eyes as she ran through the Oakwald or as they sparred. The wide smile on her face when she was among her companions laughing and joking. Young, carefree… but it wouldn’t last for much longer. He would pity her, if only Aelin wouldn’t attempt to tear his head off if she ever found out he did. 

Rowan tried to shake the thoughts of the soon-to-be queen from his head as he retired to his rooms for dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another update for yall! took a bit longer to post than I would have liked because I was traveling but I hope you all like it! reading yalls comments on the last chapter had be dying because you think rowan is jealous now?! just wait. Let me know what you all think of the chapter! love to hear from you guys!


	14. Chapter 14

The moon had been steadily creeping up the night sky, casting deep shadows across the halls of Orynth as Rowan stalked down them. It was quiet by this time of night, the silence only broken by the whispering of maids or the hearty chuckles of the guards. 

Rowan headed back to his rooms after procuring parchment and ink to draft a letter back to his queen. The halls of Orynth were now almost as familiar to him as the palace of Doranelle. 

The Fae prince hadn’t expected to come across anyone on his journey back to his suite until he heard voices from down the hall coming his direction. Laughter and whispers from what seemed to be a small group of people.

They rounded the corner and came upon Rowan, their voices ceasing when they saw him.

Aelin’s eyes grew a fraction of an inch when she saw him, but Rowan was just as surprised as he examined her. She was in her mortal form, her golden hair was half-pulled back, a simple cloak over her shoulders, covering an equally simple dress, which was very unlike the princess. She looked almost ordinary, well, as ordinary as someone like Aelin Galathynius could look. Surrounding her, dressed in equally inconspicuous garb was her cousin and the shifter, the future lady of Perranth, Ren Allsbrook and Fenrys.

“Rowan!” Aelin said, flashing a grin that looked slightly guilty. 

Rowan quirked a brow. “A little late for a stroll, isn’t it?”

“I could say the same for you,” she shot back. “We’re going into the city. You’re welcome to join us,”

Rowan swept a look over the small party, eyeing their lack of weaponry. He found it strange that the princess would simply pop off into the city on a whim without a personal guard surrounding her… but, he supposed that’s what that group was to her. Her future court, ready to lay down their lives for her if needed.

“I know what you’re thinking and I have three daggers strapped to my leg,” Aelin said. “Aedion had just the same if not more. Oh, and I can summon fire,”

Rowan shook his head slightly at the princess. “If you show up to training hungover tomorrow, I’m not going to go any easier on you,”

“He means it,” Fenrys added, speaking from experience.

“I know he does,” Aelin sighed. “I suppose I’ll see you in the morning then, prince… oh, and please don’t tell my uncle I’ve gone. He doesn’t like it when we sneak off into the city,”

Rowan refrained from rolling his eyes. “Training in the morning. Don’t be late,”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Aelin said before she and her friends began making their way down the halls once more.

Rowan caught Fenrys’s eye and gave him a warning looking. The younger Fae simply sent an infuriatingly casual smirk and shrugged before slipping beside the princess and placing his hand on her waist. Rowan didn’t miss the bright grin Aelin flashed the golden-haired male before sidling closer to him. 

The Fae prince quickly looked away. He didn’t want to imagine what mayhem the two of them would cause together.

…

Aelin and her friends had always made of habit of finding the most disreputable taverns in Orynth and sneaking out to drink and dance whenever they dared. Aelin knew that if her uncle or Darrow or any of the lords saw where she would spend some of her nights, they would go red in the face.

And she and her companions went often. Often enough that they were known by the barkeeps, that the men who played cards knew that Aelin always cheated, and Aedion could hardly be bested in a drinking competition. If the patrons of these taverns knew that the princess of Terrasen sat beside them, they didn’t let it on. She knew with the right clothes, she would blend right in. Besides, who would ever think that the future queen and her court frequented seedy bars? 

Aelin figured, however, that the barkeep at this particular tavern had an inkling about who she was. Everytime she went to order another round for her and her friends, he would accept with a conspirators grin. He never used her name, but he happened to keep a sharper eye out for her, which is why his tavern was her favorite in the city.

They took their time walking through the city that night. Fenrys hadn’t ever seen it, and Aelin could tell he wanted to see everything that he could. His onyx eyes were wide as he drank in the sights around him, the markets squares lit by warm candles, the restaurants with savory aromas wafting their way, the little dress and trinket stores. He seem mesmerized. Aelin promised to give him a proper tour if they managed to escape training for an afternoon. 

She didn’t mind when he placed a broad hand on the small of her back or her waist. In fact, she found herself leaning closer. He was a handsome male after all whose company she greatly enjoyed. If anything, she thought Aedion may start a problem if he saw, but her cousin was too engrossed in Lysandra to really notice. Aelin really wished they would just admit what they felt for another already. She was tired of watching them flirt, build tension, and do nothing. It was exhausting. 

The tavern was filled with people when they arrived. A small band was playing enthusiastically in the corner, barmaids expertly weaving between patrons without spilling a drop of ale. Men shouted and cursed at a table pressed up against the wall as a game of cards came to a conclusion.

“So, this is where the princess of Terrasen spends her nights,” Fenrys said, leaning closer so she could hear him over the din of the tavern.

“I’m sure all the bars in Doranelle know you by name,” Aelin taunted.

“Well, only the good ones,”

Elide managed to wrangle them a table in the back corner, giving their group a bit more privacy. Aelin was shoved in the booth between Lysandra and Fenrys while Aedion went to get the first round. 

“What do you think of Terrasen so far, Lord Fenrys?” Ren asked, leaning back slightly in his seat.

Fenrys chewed on his thoughts for a few moments before answering. “It’s very different than my home. It’s beautiful, unlike anything I’ve ever seen,”

“Is it strange being surrounded by so many mortals?” Elide questioned, raising a dark brow.

“Well, I get stared at more here,” he quipped. “There is certainly a lot less snarling and teeth baring among most of the population. But, I believe the Ashryvers make up for the lack of it among their people,”

Aelin narrowed her turquoise eyes at the male beside her, ignoring how Lysandra laughed heartily from beside her. She couldn’t help it! It just happened when she was pissed off. 

Aedion arrived with the drinks, sliding them around the table before nestling beside Lysandra. He grabbed a mug of ale, raising it up.

“To old friends,”

“And to new ones,” Aelin added, looking towards Fenrys as she mimicked Aedion's actions.

Fenrys's eyes never left hers as he too raised his glass. “To Terrasen,”

…

The night went on. Aelin's glass was never empty, her cheeks became flushed and heated as she talked and laughed with her friends. Fenrys regaled them with tales of far-away lands while Aedion and Aelin each tried to find the most mortifying childhood story about the other as they could, which led to Aelin nearly vaulting over the table and tackling her cousin.

Lysandra ended up dragging Aelin away to dance to the cheery music that filled the tavern, the pair of them twirling and moving together as gracefully as they could manage. 

Aelin loved this. She loved her friends and the music, she loved forgetting her responsibilities for a few hours. While she was there, she wasn't the future queen of Terrasen. She didn't have to worry about Lords or tax proposals or marriage alliances. All there is was the music and the light and the joy in her heart.

She and Lysandra tried to teach Fenrys some of the traditional dances of Terrasen. He tried his best. He may have been a mighty warrior, but he was an awful dancer. That didn't stop him, however, from pulling Aelin close as he tried to follow her steps. His hands clutched her sides, his chest pressed against her own lighting a fire through her being. The look in his eyes didn't help to cool her down either.

It grew late. Elide was taking a table of men, including Ren, for all they were worth in cards. Aedion and Lysandra were sitting together in a little booth, hardly able to tear their eyes away from one another.

So no one noticed when Aelin and Fenrys slipped off on their own.

He had her pressed against the door of a tiny storage room in the back of the tavern in a heartbeat. His mouth was on hers, tongue trailing across the seam of her lips before she parted them for him. Aelin couldn't find the will to stop the soft groan from the back of her throat as his tongue met hers.

Aelin's fingers tangled within his curls as Fenrys swiftly cupped the back of her knees and picked her up, her legs wrapping around his waist as the skirts of her dress slid up her thighs. His hips rolled against her own, pulling another long moan from her mouth.

“Fen,” Aelin gasped as he left open-mouthed kisses along the length of her neck, stopping at the juncture between her throat and collar bone. She felt the tips of his canines brush against the sensitive skin there.

His fingertips brushed against the top of her thighs, slowly inching towards where she most desperately wanted them. A loud gasp left her lips as they brushed between her thighs, over her underclothes.

“Fenrys,” she breathed out again, unable to stop her hips from bucking towards him.

“What is it you want, princess?” she could almost hear the smirk in his voice.

“Please,” was all she could manage before she felt laughter rumble in his chest and his deft fingers pushed aside her underclothes and dipped into her.

Aelin threw her head back, her fingers tightening their grip on his hair to the point it must have been painful, not that Fenrys showed any signs of discomfort as his fingers worked deep, drawn out moans from the princess. 

“Oh gods,” Aelin whimpered as his mouth dipped down once again to her neck, sucking little marks she would have to hide the next day. 

He added another finger before working her faster. Aelin bit her lip to the point of drawing blood to try to keep her moans quiet, but it wasn't working well.

She was burning. Aelin was surprised she wasn't actually on fire as her pleasure grew and grew, eyes shut as she lost herself in the sensation. She was going to combust.

When Fenrys's thumb skimmed that sensitive spot at the apex of her thighs, Aelin finally came undone, crying out loudly enough that she feared someone might hear her before Fenrys claimed her mouth once again as he worked her through her high, leaving her panting with flushed cheeks.

“Take me home,” Aelin whispered against the shell of his pointed ear before pulling back far enough to see the smile on his face and the want in his eyes.

This would be an exceptionally good night.

…

Sleep didn't find Rowan Whitethorn easily that night. After an hour or two of simply laying on the bed and staring up at the ceiling, he threw the blankets off and stalked towards his balcony before shifting and taking off into the northern skies. It had been too long since he had last rode the frigid, sharp winds that blew over the Staghorns. 

He lost track of time as he swooped and cut through the air before he decided he had been out for long enough.

Rowan tended to do a quick sweep around the grounds when he returned from his late night trips to the sky, ensuring nothing was out of place. Nothing ever was, but he couldn't shake the habit.

Rowan cut back towards his own rooms, seeing a warm orange light spilling from the open balcony doors of Aelin's room. She often times left her doors open to allow in the sweet, night air of the north, though it always worried Rowan from a safety perspective. He dipped down and passed by the open doors, catching a glimpse of the scene inside, though he instantly wished he hadn't.

Fenrys was tangled in the sheets with the princess, thick blankets and furs blocking the Fae prince from seeing anything too detailed, but even with that quick glimpse, he could tell they were bare, Aelin's legs wrapped around his waist, fingers digging into his golden-tan shoulders as he thrust into her.

Rowan nearly faltered. He hadn't been expecting to see anything of the sort. Fenrys had made his flirtations with the princess obvious, Aelin nearly just as bad, but if they were ever to act on it, Rowan never would have thought that he would have to witness it. 

Rowan shifted as he reached his balcony, face instantly screwed in distaste at the image seared into his mind. He wished he had never seen it, wished he never had to know, wished Fenrys had never laid a hand on her.

Rowan shook himself from the strange turn of thought before going into his washroom and splashing some sharply cold water on his face. As he climbed into bed for the night, Rowan Whitethorn willed himself to think about anything else than what was occurring not so far down the hall. 

…

Aelin didn't like being woken up in the mornings, she never did, and she knew that people hated being the ones to venture into her rooms in the mornings and rouse her.

It seemed, however, that Fenrys had no qualms about waking her up nearly an hour before she had to be awake. At least he did it pleasantly. 

She was awoken to the pads on his calloused fingers skimming over the bare skin of her thighs, over the planes of her stomach. His nose skimmed along her neck before he began to pepper soft kisses along her shoulders, up the swoop of her throat. Aelin released a soft sigh as she found herself tilting her head to the side to allow the male better access.

As Fenrys continued his ministrations, the events from the night before came rushing back to Aelin, heating her cheeks. It wasn't that she hadn't taken a man to bed before, but she had never been with a Fae male. 

It had been amazing. She supposed that after over a hundred years of practice, Fenrys should be good at what he does, she just hadn't known to what extent. It was a shame she hadn't had a Fae lover before.

“I know it's still at least an hour before dawn,” Aelin murmured, eyes still shut as his lips brushed over her skin.

Fenrys laugh rumbled in his chest. “And your point is?”

“My point is that I still have time to sleep,” Aelin said, cracking her eyes open and peering over at the male beside her. His golden curls were wild, eyes still glazed with grogginess as he looked at her in amusement. 

“I can think of a few better things to do than sleep,” Fenrys whispered before he grabbed her waist and swiftly turned her onto her back. Next thing Aelin knew, he was positioned between her legs, lining up with her entrance before pushing inside. Aelin's hands shot out to his shoulders, throwing her head back with a moan. He began to move in her, Aelin's legs locking around his waist, heels digging in his lower back as he hips moved languidly, taking his time to properly wake her up. As his calloused fingers brushed across her breasts and his lips left hot trails along her jaw, Aelin couldn't find it in herself to complain about the early morning 

…

Aelin eventually had to roll out from under Fenrys, (reluctantly) and strolled into her connected bathing room, feeling Fenrys’s eyes following her bare form from where he lay sprawled out across her sheets with a smug little grin on his face. 

She made sure to scrub herself thoroughly, using what must have been every single soap scattered along the edge of her bath to do so. Aelin lathered her hair with lavender scented tonics, going as quickly as she could so Rowan wouldn’t scold her first thing in the morning for lateness. 

Aelin stepped from the water and used a bit of her power to dry herself before taking a quick glance at herself in the mirror. She sighed at the sight of the little marks scattered along her neck and shoulders before shrugging on a tunic with a neckline high enough to cover them. 

The princess twisted her hair into a braid as she entered her room, absentmindedly strapping her dagger to her thigh. She glanced up and found Fenrys lacing up his boots.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Aelin asked.

Fenrys blinked once. “Breakfast,”

“Absolutely not! You need to bathe!”

“What, do I stink?”

“No, my scent is all over you!”

“So?”

“So, you need to get it off!” Aelin insisted. “Anyone with Fae senses will know what we did last night,”

“And this morning,” Fenrys smirked.

Aelin swiftly smacked him on the back of his golden head. “The point is, they will know!”

“What’s the problem with that?”

Aelin shook her head in disbelief. “Well, I particularly don’t want my cousin to know. You shouldn’t either because he will try to kill you. Oh, and Rowan would be able to scent it as well and I really,  _ really  _ don’t want him to think about what I do in my bedchambers,” 

Fenrys threw his head back with a dramatic groan. “It’s not like this back in Doranelle,”

“So, what, you just paraded around smelling like the last person you bedded? So everyone knows?”

“Exactly!”

Aelin scoffed and shook her head. “Go. Take. A. Bath,”

Fenrys rolled his eyes with a drawn-out sigh. “Fine. Now, go before Whitethorn gets pissed. Trust me, he isn’t fun to deal with when he’s upset,”

“Oh, trust me. I already know,”

…

Rowan couldn’t look Aelin in the eye. If she had noticed during their run, she hadn’t said anything, but as they sparred, there was no way she didn’t notice.

Their steel clashed against one another’s, shaking all the way down Rowan’s arm. It seemed the princess had taken a liking to the twin blades in their years apart and had become quite formidable with them. Fast and sleek, easily deadly if she wanted to be. 

He could nearly feel her turquoise eyes boring into him. He refused to glance over the blades and meet her gaze.

He batted away Aelin’s blades, but the princess came right back at him, faster than she had any right to be, her short blades cutting through the air as she threw her knee into his gut and knocked his sword from his hand. The next thing Rowan knew, the tip of Aelin’s short sword was pressed against his pulse point.

She had disarmed him.

Aelin had never been able to do so before. Yes, she had progressed greatly but it wasn’t every day someone was able to point a sword at his unprotected throat. 

Rowan’s eyes slowly rose from the gleaming silver up to the princess. Her cheeks were flushed, face glazed with a light sweat that had ensnared a few pieces of golden hair that had escaped her braid. Her brows bunched together as she held his eyes before she lowered her blade.

“What is wrong with you?” she asked.

Rowan blinked once. “Nothing,”

“Liar,” Aelin said, cocking her head to the side as she inspected him. “You’ve barely spoken, not that you really speak much, and you’ve been distracted. I shouldn’t have been able to disarm you so easily. So, what’s wrong?”

Rowan didn’t say anything. What was he supposed to say? Tell the princess he had accidentally caught a glimpse of her being intimate with his companion and now he couldn’t make himself look her in the eye? No, that wouldn’t do.

“I just didn’t sleep well last night,” Rowan said. Not exactly a lie.

“Don’t bullshit me, Rowan,” Aelin said, narrowing her eyes. “As if that would ever be an excuse. Knowing you, you’ve probably gone two nights without sleep and still won glory on the killing fields,”

“Three nights, actually,”

“Exactly. So I shouldn’t have been able to disarm you,”

“I’m surprised you’re not gloating,”

“I’m not going to gloat about winning an unfair fight. In fact, I'm not even going to count this as winning,” Aelin said, crossing her arms over her chest. “But, since you won’t tell me what’s wrong, we can wait until you’ve had enough sleep before we spar again,”

Rowan opened his mouth to retort, but someone beat him to it.

“This looks a lot like standing around and not like training,” Fenrys piped up as he strolled into the clearing. “Whitethorn, why is your sword on the ground?”

Rowan didn’t answer, schooling his face into neutrality as Fenrys stood beside the princess. They did a good job of pretending that nothing had happened the night before, which was in fact an excellent idea that Rowan should be attempting to mimic. 

When no one answered Fenrys, he rolled his eyes softly and glanced towards the princess. “I ran into your shifter friend on the way to breakfast this morning. She tried to talk to me, forgetting that she was in the form of a house cat,”

Aelin let out a very unprincess-like snort of laughter. “She does that sometimes,”

“Just how is it that you befriended a fully powered shifter?”

Aelin held Fenrys’s gaze for a heartbeat longer before looking to Rowan. She raised a taunting brow, as if to ask,  _ Do you have any objections to an unplanned break? _

Rowan bowed his head.  _ Go ahead princess. _

Aelin released a breathy sigh and sheathed her blades in a single, smooth motion. She planted her hands on her hips, looking back and forth from the Fae warriors beside her. Her face was uncharacteristically serious, no cocky tilt of the head or jaunty slant of the lips.

“Lysandra is very open about her past, so anything I’m about to say isn’t anything she wouldn’t willing tell you herself,” 

Rowan’s brows knitted together. He hadn’t been expecting this tone, the seriousness on her face. He had been waiting for a humorous anecdote, not whatever seemed to be on the tip of the princess’s tongue. 

“I spent the last summer in Adarlan,” Aelin began.

So, the rumors had been true. Aelin had traveled towards Adarlan after the death of her parents. However, it seemed that no supposed marriage proposal to Dorian Havilliard came out of it either.

“While I was there, I spent as much time outside the palace as possible, wandering around Rifthold, evading the guards who were sent out to find me and getting as drunk as possible in whatever bars wouldn’t kick me out for cheating in cards,”

Rowan nearly laughed. Now that sounded like Aelin.

“I met Lysandra through…” she hesitated, a flash of something dark sparking in her eyes, something painful, but she blinked it away. “A mutual friend,”

Rowan knew there was something more to that story, could read it on her face, but she didn’t want to share. He wouldn’t make her. 

“Lysandra was a courtesan in a high-class brothel in Rifthold,”

A courtesan. 

Rowan hadn’t been expecting that, neither had Fenrys if he was reading his face correctly.

“How does a shifter end up in a brothel?” Fenrys asked.

“When Lysandra’s mother found out about her abilities, she threw her out on the streets. Lysandra had to make it on her own, shifting between animals and other children and making herself beautiful. She was in the form of a beautiful child when the Madame found her,” Aelin said. “Lys was a child, she didn't understand what she was getting herself into when she followed that woman, promised a warm bed and full belly. After a few weeks, Lys began to understand what that place was and made plans to leave… and then, the Madame learned she was a shifter.

“She filled Lysandra’s head with horror stories of shifters hunted down and killed because of their gifts, of kidnappings and slave trades. She made Lysandra think that the brothel was the only safe place for her, that she would be protected,”

“She could have left at anytime,” Rowan said. “Shifted into a bird and flown from the window, or into a mountain cat and tore out the Madame's throat,”

“Lys was a scared child with no home, family, money, or friends,” Aelin said, eyes stormy with anger as she thought about what her friend endured. “I would have clung to whatever piece of stability I could get a hold of if I was in her position.”

“I would think that the Madame would use a shifter as a spy rather than a courtesan,” Fenrys mused, rubbing pensively at his chin. 

Aelin laughed darkly. “Clearly you don't think like a madame. With a shifter, a client could bed whoever they wanted. The Madame could charge more to make their fantasies come to life. A shifter makes a profitable whore,”

Rowan felt sick to his stomach as he thought about what that girl had to go through, all those years she had spent being other people.

“So, the client like redheads and she would make her hair red?” Fenrys asked.

Aelin shook her head. “No, the other girls could provide something so trivial. Lys would become other  _ people.  _ The flower girl that a boy was too shy to approach, the sister of a man's wife, a widow's dead husband, the prince of Adarlan… hell, she told me she had once even shifted into me as a request from a client!”

“How did she know what you looked like?”

“Well, she didn't exactly,” Aelin said. “If she couldn’t see them for herself, she could approximate what they looked like. She knew I was about her age with Ashryver eyes and golden hair. That's all some people needed,”

Rowan tried to reign in his disgust at the thought.

“I spent more time with her when we could both escape from our responsibilities. We became wonderful friends,” Aelin continued. “And then, before I knew it, summer was over, and I was to return home. I couldn’t just… leave her in that brothel. So, I paid off her debts as well as those of her ward, and then some for the silence of the Madame about Lysandra’s abilities… that, and threatening to burn down all her property,”

“I’m sure you terrified her,”

“The sight of the future queen of Terrasen walking up to your home crowned in flame is enough to frighten anyone,” Aelin laughed.

“Her ward?” Rowan asked.

“A young girl was placed in Lysandra’s care to be… trained for her future employment,” Aelin explained. “Lysandra cares for the girl greatly, and I grew fond of her as well. They could have gone anywhere in the world, but I offered them a place here, in Terrasen, among my court if they wished. Lysandra now owns a large plot of land by the Allsbrook territory,”

“That would make her-”

“A lady,” Aelin finished with a slow nod. “Lys can claim that title whenever she chooses, she’s just not ready for it yet,”

Rowan noted the look of understanding that crossed over her face. He supposed she was in a similar situation, the crown of Terrasen looming over her head. She would be taking her place as queen sooner than anyone expected. Rowan himself was grateful for his older cousins, who had the responsibilities that came with their title. He was a prince, but only in name. He wouldn’t know the first thing about ruling.

“I haven’t seen her ward,” Fenrys commented.

“Her name's Evangeline,” Aelin said fondly. “She’s away at school for now, but she’ll be back by Beltane,”

“They must be very grateful to you,”

Aelin shrugged as if it were nothing. “I’m grateful for them. Lys helped me through some… hard times,”

More half stories, glimpsing over the entirety of what she endured. Rowan assumed she meant the deaths of her parents, a tragedy that she hadn’t opened up about yet, not that she had any obligation to tell him about anything. Perhaps she had already worked through it with her court, perhaps she had it and it was eating her up inside.

“Now, I think that's enough storytelling for now,” Aelin said. “I think we should get back to training. I need to release some of my magic,”

Rowan nodded. “Very well. Let’s begin,”

…

Aelin was a fiery inferno as she fought. Fast and burning and powerful. Rowan hadn’t sparred the princess with magic in three years and could clearly notice what she had been speaking about. She had become more powerful, her fire stronger, shields sturdier. There hadn’t been power like hers on the continent since the likes of Brannon. He could understand why people whispered about her, why they watched her with anticipation was her ascent to the throne grew closer and closer. She could change the political climate of almost the entire world. Someone with her power, with the resources of Terrasen, could conquer the lands on a whim, crown herself empress on the continent and no one would have the ability to put a stop to it.

But… Rowan knew she would never do that. Aelin had a sharp tongue and a wicked sense of humor, she could fight her way through an army and burn men from the inside out. And yet… Aelin wouldn’t become a conqueror. She had a good heart beneath all her swaggering and preening and snarling, such as the snarl she had on her face as she swung a fiery fist at him.

He was sure Fenrys was watching with delight as the princess lunged at him with the promise of violence in her eyes, but she left too much of an opening and Rowan’s winds sent her flying back into the dirt. Rowan summoned cuffs of ice around her wrists, locking her to the forest floor. Instantly, Aelin’s hands were covered in flames to try and melt them down, but they didn’t last long when Rowan stole the air from them until the fire flickered into nothing.

She unleashed a filthy curse as she struggled against the bindings before slamming her booted feet to the ground in frustration. 

Rowan took a few steps closer until he was able to peer down at her, not yet releasing her from her bonds of ice.

“Your powers have grown much stronger,” he said. “And now, you need to learn how to use that strength more effectively,”

“I might be able to use my strength more effectively if you get rid of the damned cuffs and stopped choking out my fires,” Aelin ground out, rotating her wrists as she still attempted to get loose. 

“I need you to listen instead of-”

Her heel launched towards his gut, causing Rowan to stagger a few steps back, partially from the strength of her attack, partially from surprise. She had gotten out, but Rowan hadn’t melted the bindings. The princess swung at him, but it was messy and most likely fueled out of anger of being beaten. Rowan stopped her arm, twisted it behind her back before grabbing her other wrist and pulled her back against his chest. She only struggled for a heartbeat before she realized it was fruitless.

“How’d you get out?” Rowan questioned.

“Dislocated my thumbs,” Aelin said, peeking up at him from the corner of her eye. He could practically see the smirk in them.

“How does a princess learn how to do that?” Fenrys asked.

Rowan released Aelin, who took a few steps away and brushed stray strands of hair out from her face.

“Aedion taught me,” she said. “Seemed like a good skill to have. You know, just in case,”

“In case of what?” Fenrys laughed.

Aelin shrugged. “You know, just in case. I don’t want to be locked up, don’t want to be helpless if I can avoid it,”

“They craft manacles in order to keep people like you contained,” Rowan pointed out.

Aelin raised a taunting brow. “People like me? You mean a young princess? Who would ever suspect that a young, pretty princess would know how to escape from chains?”

Rowan supposed she did have a point. The method she used was a trick learned by mostly lowly thieves and assassins. They would never put someone like Rowan in cuffs so easy to escape, but perhaps they would underestimate Aelin, and it would lead to their demise.   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt high key guilty reading yalls comments saying yall hope Fenrys and Aelin only being friends when I knew damn well they were going to fuck. like, im a slut for rowaelin but fenrys and aelin has always...... intrigued me. Still, hope you guys liked the chapter! This was actually the first piece of smut ive ever written so its not great, but lmk what yall think!


	15. Chapter 15

A week flew by in a flurry of fists and fire and ice. The days were spent training, the nights… well, Rowan wasn’t quite sure if he wanted to quite know what Aelin spent her nights doing, especially if Fenrys was involved. Try as he might, he couldn’t ignore the quick looks they would spare one another, or when they would walk to breakfast together in the morning. Perhaps they thought they were being discrete, and maybe they were. Maybe Rowan would have never known they were involved if he hadn’t caught a glimpse of them together. They were being rather careful. He could never scent one on the other, never saw them exiting one another’s rooms. 

So, Rowan tried his best to forget that he ever saw anything.

Today, it had just been Rowan and the princess. Fenrys, upon request by Aedion Ashryver, had gone to show the Bane some skills of the Fae of Doranelle. Rowan took the time and the absence of a distraction to have Aelin work on using her fire and steel side by side. She had even impressed him by encasing her blade in flames. It had quite a fearsome effect.

He didn’t know how long they had been sparring for. Every day, the princess was able to go for longer and longer as she picked up new skills and began to understand his fighting style more and more. Rowan would notice Aelin incorporating tricks of his own into her own movements. 

Eventually, Rowan managed to disarm the princess, the flames of her blade sputtering out as it clattered to the forest floor. He had to admit, she was more an opponent than many others he had faced, at a much younger age as well. 

Aelin’s jaw clenched in anger, turquoise eyes narrowed at the tip of Rowan’s blade, pointed at her throat.

Rowan lowered and sheathed his weapon. “You did well,”

Aelin’s brows bunched together. “But not well enough,” she said. “I haven’t been able to disarm you,”

“Perhaps not yet,” Rowan said. “But you get better every day,”

Aelin cocked her head to the side, surprise lighting her face. “Was that… a compliment? A real compliment?”

Rowan refrained from rolling his eyes. 

“If someone had told me three years ago if I ever thought Rowan Whitethorn would give me an honest to gods compliment, I would have said they were crazy,” she continued.

The Fae warrior shook his head at her antics before catching her eye. “Have there been any attempts on your life?”

Aelin blinked once, laughter melting from her face at his sudden turn in tone. “My life?”

“You haven’t reached your second decade and you’re already a formidable warrior, a powerful magic user, and you’re next in line for the throne of the most powerful kingdom on the continent,” Rowan explained. “It would make sense for other kingdoms to try to eliminate the threat,”

Aelin flinched at the word, and for a moment, Rowan feared that he had said the wrong thing. A threat would entail her being wicked or power hungry, both things Rowan knew she was not, but others didn't. 

“As far as I am aware, there have been no attempts on my life. At least none that got past our guards,” Aelin said, gaze traveling away from Rowan's face and pointing towards the canopy above them. “Perhaps Melisande's attack that killed my parents was meant to kill me as well, but I suppose we'll never know that for sure…”

They grew silent, only the sounds of the breeze rustling the branches of the trees and the cries of the mountain birds to fill the suffocating quiet. Aelin was looking off in the distance, the corners of her lips drooping down. Her arms snaked around her middle, making herself small, something that Rowan had never seen the princess do before.

Rowan took a step closer, angling his face in the hopes that she would look at him.

“Aelin…” he said softly. Her head turned slowly, eyes wide as they finally met his gaze. There was a pain in them, something he had only seen in flashes. “Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Rowan," Aelin said, though she didn't look it. "It's been over a year, I've had my time to grieve,"

And although she said that, her shoulders curved inward and her eyes skipped back to the ground, closing herself off.

The Fae prince dared another step closer, unsure of what to do, what to say… he reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder. The gesture seemed to surprise the princess enough that she looked at him once again, lips parted ever so slightly.

"Aelin, you lost your parents suddenly and violently. You can have time to grieve and still be upset,"

The princess shook her head. "I never hear you talk about losing your parents,"

"My mother and father faded peacefully," Rowan explained. "Although I was young, I knew for many years that I wouldn't have long with them. The loss was sad, but expected. Yours… it was different. I remember hearing about it across the ocean, how shocked and upset and angry I was… and I remember thinking, I couldn't imagine what kind of pain you were in,"

Aelin's eyes were rimmed with silver. She released a shuddering breath before seating herself on a fallen log, hunched over with her fingers knitting through her hair.

"I didn't think it was real," Aelin confessed, voice barely above a whisper. "I- I thought that they had the wrong information, the wrong people. It was like a nightmare,"

Rowan lowered himself onto the log beside the princess, eyes never leaving her face.

"And then, I realized it was real. It had happened. I cried for what felt like days and days," Aelin continued. "I was heartbroken, and I was frightened. I was supposed to have years and years to train to be prepared to take the throne, but then I didn't.

"And eventually… that sorrow and fear turned to anger, to rage. I wanted revenge, so much that it made me almost numb. And so I went to war,"

"I heard stories," Rowan said. "From across the sea about your battle,"

Aelin turned to him, eyes searching his. "What did you hear?"

"That you and Aedion were fearsome, that together you cut through Melisande's legion alongside the Bane, and then when you reached their general, you turned him to ash,"

Rowan studied the princess carefully as he spoke, to see if any of his words sparked something within her, confusion or anger. Perhaps the stories he heard had been exaggerated, but her expression remained even. It was all true.

"That was your first time on the killing field, wasn't it?" Rowan asked.

Aelin nodded slowly. "Yes,"

"Were you frightened?"

"Not nearly as frightened as I should have been," she admitted. "I was just so angry that I couldn't find room to feel anything else… and then when the battle began, I felt… nothing. I gutted men, slit their throats, burnt them alive and felt  _ nothing.  _ Until it was over, that is. When the battle died down, it settled in what I had done… that I had taken a life, many lives in fact. I vomited the whole night,"

“The killing calm,” Rowan nodded. “I understand what you felt. It's a… strange sensation, but helpful when focusing in battle,”

There was a glimmer of relief in her eyes at his words, happy to hear what she had experienced wasn't something she experienced alone. 

“I thought that after they surrendered, after everything was over, I would feel… better, I suppose,” Aelin continued in a quiet murmur. “But, I didn’t. I returned to Orynth for a few weeks before Orlon must have taken pity on me or grew tired of watching me mope around the halls and sent me off to Adarlan for the summer. He thought that seeing my friends there, being away from the place that reminded me of my parents would help me get through my sorrows,”

“And did it?”

Aelin shrugged. “In some ways, yes, but in other ways… it just added on to them,”

The princess didn’t seem keen at elaborating on her vague final statement. Rowan allowed them to sit in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, their words settling in on one another. He was glad she had talked to him, that she had shared a small, vulnerable shard of herself with him as he had once done with her. 

“If you ever need to… talk about what happened,” Rowan said at length. “I’m here for you, Aelin,”

The princess looked at him, lips spreading in a smile though there was still sadness in her eyes. “You willingly offering to talk? I must be dreaming,”

Rowan rolled his eyes and heard the princess release a breathy laugh. 

“Thank you, Rowan,” Aelin said.

“For what?”

“Listening,”

…

The next morning, Aelin absentmindedly finished braiding her hair as she wandered down the halls for breakfast. She couldn’t stop thinking about her conversation with Rowan the day before. He had… helped her, even when she didn’t really think she had needed help. Aelin thought she was fine, but there was always this tension in the back of her head that was finally relieved when she spoke to him. 

And the fact that he just knew there were things weighing heavily on her mind…

Aelin was truly thankful for him, she realized. Actually thankful. He was a good male, an idea that had finally settled in. She used to despise him, curse him and dread having to spend any length of time in his presence. Then they had built a shaky truce built on learning to tolerate one another… but Aelin knew more about Rowan was now, probably more than most. He had confided in her about Lyria, had saved her from a burnout. After years they had built some kind of… relationship, she supposed. Aelin didn't know if it could be considered a friendship at this point, they didn't spend any time with each other outside of training, but they got along well enough now. They would tease and banter, still sometimes snarling but lacking the true ferocity it had once held. 

She now awoke in the mornings… excited to train, eager to learn from the vast well of knowledge that Rowan had accumulated over his long lifespan. 

Aelin smiled slightly to herself as she thought about how much she will improve over the course of this year… a whole year training with a legendary warrior. She would be able to defend herself, loved ones, and kingdoms with both blade and magics.

However, the grin didn't last long, melting away at the sounds of a frantic voice down the hall.

"Princess!" Darrow called, swiftly closing the distance between the them. There was a crease between his brows, lips set in a grim line.

Aelin felt dread begin to set in. "What is it? What's wrong?"

Darrow swallowed thickly. "Your uncle has summoned you to his chambers,"

"What. Is. Wrong?" Aelin ground out through clenched teeth.

"Orlon…" Darrow breathed out. "He's sick,"

"Again?" 

Her uncle had been prone to sickness in the past few years, leaving him unavailable for one or two days at a time, but he always bounced back.

"It's not like the other times," Darrow confessed. "He's… it's bad, Aelin,"

The words were hardly done ringing through the air before Aelin turned heel and rushed down the halls, breakfast and training forgotten. Rowan would be pissed but she would deal with that later. Aelin pushed through guards and servants and courtiers as she flew through the halls, ignoring the confused looks thrown her way. 

Before she knew it, Aelin was pushing open the ornate double doors that led to her uncle's chambers. 

Aedion was already there, head whipping towards the sound of the doors being thrown open, searching for a threat, but finding only his cousin. His face instantly contorted into that of grief and sorrow as his tore his gaze away from Aelin and towards Orlon.

Aelin’s breath was stolen from her lungs as she lingered in the doorway and examined the scene before her. The room was filled with healers, mixing herbs, drawing water, whispering between one another as they flocked around the bed her uncle was sprawled out on. His face was pale, glazed in sweat, eyes barely open. His thin, white hair was fanned out over the pillows, chest rising and falling shallowly as he breathed. Poppy was seated on the edge of his bed, critically looking over Orlon. Her hand was on his chest, glowing gold as her healing magics worked, but the look on her face wasn’t promising. 

Aelin flinched back as her uncle released a violent, shuttering cough. The room stunk of death and illness. Orlon looked so weak, worse than she had ever seen him. It would be a miracle if he made it through the night.

Orlon could very well die today, and that would mean-

A wave of nausea passed over Aelin as she took an involuntary step backwards. She knew Orlon wanted to speak with her, but she couldn’t do it, couldn’t last another moment in this stuffed room. 

“Aelin…” Aedion said slowly, noting the expression on her face. 

She turned heel and tore out of the room, ignoring her cousin and Darrow shouting after her. Aelin’s heart thudded in her chest so loudly that it drowned out any other sounds around her. She felt as though she couldn’t breathe, that she wasn’t getting enough air into her lungs. 

Aelin skidded around a corner into a dark, desolate hall, bursting into a little room and slamming the door behind her. She used to use this room to train when she had no control of her magic. It was cold and empty, dark stone surrounding her from all sides. Her back slammed against the wall, slowly sliding down until she was shoved into the corner, knees pulled against her chest and fingers pulling nearly painfully at her hair. 

Orlon might not make it, and she would… she would become queen. 

A strained cry escaped her throat as tears blurred her vision.

She wasn’t ready.

…

Rowan couldn’t find Aelin anywhere.

He had been pissed as hell when she hadn’t met him by the gates at dawn, figuring that she had overslept. He was hesitant to head towards her rooms, worried he may find a guest in there with her. However, when he stopped one of her maids, he was informed the princess had left her rooms well before dawn to get breakfast.

And so he headed towards the dining hall used by the royal family and their close friends only to find it empty.

Rowan couldn’t seem to find any of the royal family. Aedion and Lysandra were nowhere to be found, nor Orlon. None of Terrasen’s court seemed to be present in the halls today.

There was something wrong, something that it seemed was being well-kept enough that the gossiping courtiers or whispering servants did not seem to know anything about their absence. 

Rowan managed to cross paths with Fenrys as he headed to train with the guards, but even he didn’t know where Aelin was, just shrugging and saying he thought she would be with him by now.

There was a bit of dread in the pit of his stomach as Rowan stalked down the halls, remembering another time three years ago where Aelin dashed off without a word and nearly burned herself out somewhere deep within the Oakwald. He sincerely hoped she wasn’t smothered in flames, her own magic gobbling her up from the inside out.

He had half a mind to take to the skies and search for the princess when he heard a whimper.

It was faint, coming from a dark hall that didn’t seem to see many people, no torches lit, walls bare. There was a nondescript wooden door at the end, something Rowan normally wouldn’t have looked twice at before, but his magic speared out and felt the burning inferno that was Aelin’s own power. She was in there, and something was wrong.

Before Rowan could think twice about it, he was pushing open the door and stepping into the room. It was dark and bare, Aelin’s golden hair shimmering in the low light. She was hunched over, breathing uneven and ragged. She was practically wheezing. It sounded as though… as though she were dying.

Her eyes snapped up to him as she heard him enter, turquoise irises surrounded by an irritated red, most likely from the tears that wet her cheeks. 

“Rowan,” her voice cracked, inhaling a shaking gasp. She had a panicked look in her eyes as her shoulders heaved, trying to even her breathing.

The Fae warrior didn’t know what settled over him, wondering who had hurt her, if there was a threat. There was no one in the room, no one who could harm Aelin while she was in this vulnerable state, no one that Rowan would have to tear apart limb from limb.

Rowan was on his knees beside her in a heartbeat, his magic reaching out to fill her lungs with a steady flow of air. Her eyes were still wide and hollow, boring holes into the stone floor before her. 

“Aelin,” Rowan said firmly, reaching out and taking her face between his hands, angling her gaze towards him. “Look at me,”

She inhaled deeply before her eyes dragged to his.

“Good,” he praised, nodding shallowly. “Keep breathing, slow and deep,”

Aelin followed his instructions, chest rising and falling steadily. She barely even blinked, as if it would break the trance she had fallen under as she calmed herself. She soon matched his pattern, the two of them breathing in synchrony. Her hand eventually crept up and covered his. For a moment, Rowan thought she would pry his tattooed fingers away and snap at him for coddling her, but instead, her warm palm pressed against the back of his hand, fingers slowly curling around his hand, and simply held it, eyes fluttering shut. 

The princess slowly released a long, final breath. A tension released from her shoulders, head sagging slightly. 

Her hand slipped away from his and into her lap. Rowan took that as his signal to remove his own hands. It was then he noticed how closely he was sitting to the princess, the tips of their noses nearly brushing. He pulled back slightly, but was still kneeling before her. 

“Are you alright, Aelin?” Rowan asked at length. 

Aelin didn’t respond immediately, taking her time to gulp down a few more deep breaths, straightening her spine and leaning back against the stone wall.

“I’m… alright,” Aelin said, voice barely above a whisper. 

Rowan cocked his head to the side as he studied her. There seemed to be a weight pressing down on the princess, stealing the brightness from her eyes, the smirk from her lips. But… she was safe. She was alright. It was Rowan’s turn to release a tension he didn’t even know he would be holding.

He hadn’t known what had come over him. When he saw her curled up in there, listening to her struggling to breathe and sob… he didn’t know what had caused her to be like that, but he wanted to slaughter whatever, or whoever, had done that to her.

Aelin didn’t break down like that. He had seen her furious, screaming and snarling and pissed off. He had seen her jubilant, laughing with a feral grin on her face as she flew through the trees. He had seen her shed a few tears, but it was nothing like what he had just witnessed.

“I didn’t know where you were,” Rowan said. “I worried that you were… burning out again,”

Aelin shook her head slowly. “No, no… nothing like that has happened since that first time,”

“Good,” Rowan mused. “Good… you have a better handle on your powers,”

Aelin sniffed and nodded, wiping furiously under her eyes, trying to eradicate any evidence  of her moment of weakness. Rowan gave her a few moments to compose herself, the pair of them soaking in silence broken only by Aelin's occasional sniff.

"What happened, Aelin? What's wrong?"

Her fingers curled into lose fists. "It's my uncle. He's sick… I don't know if he will last the night,"

Oh.

She feared she would lose her uncle, so soon after the loss of her mother and father. So wonder she was grieving… but was she? She was crying, yes, but they weren't the deep sobs of loss. There was fear and panic in her eyes. She was worried-

"I'm not ready to be queen, Rowan," she whispered.

There it was, the fear that had driven her to that panic, to this solitude. If Orlon died, the crown went to Aelin.

"You'll be a fine queen, Aelin-"

"No, no I won't!" the princess snapped, jaw clenched. "I can barely act like a proper princess! I've been scolded on my behavior since I was a child, I know plenty of the lords disapprove of me, if not hate me. They call me stubborn, undisciplined, some half-wild beast,"

Rowan felt the last statement was a jab at her Fae heritage. Although Terrasen was the home a hearty population of Fae, they tended to keep to themselves. The mortals and Fae at times had a hard time understanding one another. 

"And I hear them whisper about my magic," Aelin spat, face screwing unpleasantly. “That I’m one bad day away from frying our neighbors, that I’m a fiery heretic, I’m uncontrollable, that I’m a  _ threat, _ ”

Rowan winced, knowing his word choice from earlier had stung more than Aelin had originally let on. Her eyes were once again welling with tears as she spoke.

“They fear me, already,” the princess continued, shaking her head. “When I snap at a meeting, the flinch back. They move away from me in the halls, prospective husbands can barely stand to kiss the back of my hand as if I’ll burn their skin off. The children are herded away by their mothers when they see me coming down the hall… I’m already a monster in their eyes, and I haven’t even lifted a finger,”

Rowan couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, who was also so sure of herself, her abilities, whose confidence bordered cockiness, was frightened about what people thought of her. 

“Aelin…” Rowan murmured. “To hell with them, anyone who makes you feel like this,”

Her eyes snapped to his, brows knitting together.

“And, I know how much you hate hearing this, but you’re wrong,” Rowan said. “The guards and warriors are all in awe of you, some half in love with you already. Your people look up to you, at the strength and protection you provide Terrasen. If they fear anything, they fear your courage and your sharp tongue, that they know you won’t be bullied by them into submission, that you’re intelligent and capable all on your own,”

“Rowan, my fires-”

Before another word could be uttered, the Fae prince reached out and snatched her hand within his own.

“They do not frighten me.  _ You  _ do not frighten me, Aelin Galathynius,”

The princess unleashed a shaking breath as she looked at him, barely daring to blink. Even in the dark, the gold around her eyes seemed to pulse and shine. Slowly, her eyes lowered to their laced fingers. A soft golden light began to bathe her face as embers floated from her hand, rising up towards the ceiling. Soon, Rowan’s frosty winds began to dance among her flames, twisting them higher and higher, faster and faster into a storm of ice and fire, dangerous, yet beautiful. A watery smile found its way to Aelin’s lips as she observed. She was watching their magics playing with rapt attention, but Rowan looked to her, at the wonder on her face. It made her seem… softer, more relaxed. The gold from her fires made her skin and hair glow, like she herself was made from the blaze, beautiful and shining.

Soon, the embers died down, the room sinking  once again into darkness. 

Rowan opened his mouth to provide any more words of comfort he could manage to scrounge up, but never got the chance to. A weight barreled into his chest as Aelin threw her arms around his neck and buried her face into his shoulder. He froze for a moment, something he rarely did, unsure of how to respond at first. This was… new, to say the least, but, he soon realized, not unwelcome. His hands soon pressed into her back, firmly, yet gently.

Her golden hair brushed at his nose, and he caught a whiff of her scent, of jasmine and ash. His eyes involuntarily fluttered shut as she held him tighter, feeling her steady intake of breath against his own chest. He wasn’t sure how long he held her, listening to the steady thump of her heart as it beat in time with his.

Aelin pulled back slightly, fingers still digging into his shoulders as she locked eyes with him.

“I claim you, Rowan Whitethorn,” she said, strength restored to her voice. She was close enough that he could feel her breath against his face. “I don’t care how much you’ll deny it, or complain, but I claim you as my friend,”

There was that familiar fire in her eyes as she spoke these words.

_ Friend. _

For many years, Aelin had been nothing more than a bratty child he had to endure training. They had eventually found their peace, but she had still been a kid. But, the princess had matured. She was a young woman now, a future queen… and, just perhaps, a friend. They had shared pieces of weaknesses with one another, had seen the most dark and vulnerable shards of their souls. They knew exactly who the other was, separating truth from rumor. Aelin Galathynius was a warrior who cared fiercely for the ones she loved and her kingdom. She had a tongue as sharp as the blades she wielded and a heart of fire. She had killed and laughed and cried and…

And, she had become a companion of Rowan’s. A friend.

Rowan said nothing, but raised a teasing brow.  _ Are you sure you want to be friends with an old bastard like me? _

Aelin grinned broadly.  _ I suppose I can manage. Perhaps you’re more fun than you let on. _

Rowan shook his head, but couldn’t stop the corners of his lips from twitching upwards. Of course, Aelin Galathynius would try to befriend him. There were plenty of people who wouldn’t even dare to look him in the eyes, but Aelin with her wildfire and her court of warriors and shifters didn’t balk at him, had never even flinched. 

Eventually, the bright smile on her face fell, morphing into a look of understanding. He watched as she took a deep breath and straightened her spine, remembering her responsibilities, looking like the queen she was so tentative to become.

“I suppose I should go up and see him,” she said, arms slipping from his shoulders and falling to her sides, “I shouldn’t have run off like that,”

Rowan stood first, offering his hand to Aelin and pulling her from the ground. She straightened her tunic, picked a non-existent piece of dirt from her trousers, and quickly combed her fingers through her hair. She turned to his as if to ask his opinion on how she looked before thinking better of her. He knew she would just make some comment about his simplistic tastes and warrior-brute lifestyle, comments that he had received from her many times in the past.

Rowan walked beside Aelin through the halls. He walked half-expecting her to snap at him about it, but she didn’t. She was a steady presence beside Rowan for the entirety of the journey. He could hear her taking deep, even breaths to steel herself before facing her uncle again. He wished he had words of encouragement, but even if did, he didn’t think they would help much at this point.

Eventually, they came upon the grand double doors of Orlon’s  suite. Aelin swallowed hard as she stared intently at the dark wood for a heartbeat before placing her hand on it. She moved to push the door open, but paused, looking at Rowan over her shoulder one last time.

He spoke no words, but hoped she would understand anyway.

_ I’m here for you. _

She smiled one last time before pushing open the and slipping inside.

Yes, it had been enough.

…

It was so late that it was practically early, and Aelin was sprinting through the halls. They were deserted, no one she would have to dodge or slip around. Her feet seemed to know the way on their own volition. 

She had spent the rest of the day and following night in her uncle’s room, sitting on the edge of his bed as she held his hand. Aedion had sat beside her, a comforting presence, and even Lysandra was there, curled up at the foot of the bed in the form of a huge, shaggy dog, warming Orlon’s feet. 

Aelin wouldn’t have been able to sit there for all those hours, listening to her uncle’s weak breaths and coughs that shook his whole, frail body if it hadn't been for Rowan. The healers were rushing about, but Aelin tried not to pay them much mind except for when Poppy would urge them to move over so she would assess Orlon’s condition. ****  
** **

Aelin didn’t know what to expect, but was pleasantly surprised to see brightness returning to Orlon’s eyes as the night wore on, and strength to his voice. She would silently pray to whatever gods were listening, hoping for his recovery… and by some miracle, one of them were listening. Poppy announced some time during the night that Orlon would be okay, that after a few days of bed rest, he would be back to normal.

After Aelin had embraced Aedion and Lysandra, had kissed Orlon on the forehead and then thoroughly thanked Poppy, she dashed from the room. 

Before she knew it, she was before a room she had never been at before. She didn’t think twice before knocking loudly and rapidly on the dark, oaken door. She didn’t stop rapping her knuckles on the wood until the door cracked open, silver hair shining in the dark.

“Aelin?” Rowan asked, voice raspy from sleep. “What is-?”

She launched herself at him before he could finish speaking, digging her nose into the junction between his neck and shoulder. She could practically feel his surprise as he eventually hugged her back. She was grinning broadly as she eventually pulled back far enough to look at him, at his sleep-mussed hair and confused eyes. He looked younger, she realized. Younger than she had ever seen him look before, handsome, and…

And he wasn’t wearing a shirt.

She couldn’t stop her eyes from skipping down, seeing the swirling designs of his tattoos. She had never seen them in their full extent. They were beautiful, curling around the corded muscle of his chest and arm. Her eyes snapped back up quickly, hoping that he hadn’t noticed how her eyes had strayed.

“He’s okay,” Aelin eventually said, sight blurring with happy tears. “Orlon’s okay. The healers say he’ll be fine after a few days of rest,”

His shoulders drooped in relief. “That’s great news, Aelin,”

“Thank you,” she breathed. “For today, for calming me down, for being there,”

“You don’t need to thank me for that,” he said. One hand went from her waist and rose, hesitating for a moment before he placed it on the side of her face and gently tilted it towards the torch light. The pads of his calloused thumbs skimmed over the dark bags under her eyes, so softly she could have dreamed it. “Gods, Aelin, you look exhausted. Have you slept?”

She shook her head and almost laughed. He was fussing.

“It’s almost dawn, you should get some sleep,” the Fae prince continued. “We can take a day off from training. Get some rest,”

“Okay,” Aelin whispered. She was rather tired and the thought of collapsing into her bed sounded mighty appealing. Her arms fell to her sides and she took a small step back, feeling nearly sheepish. That was twice today she had hugged, actually hugged, Rowan Whitethorn, the ancient Fae warrior who had been training her for years, but the strangest part was that he hadn’t seemed to mind, that he had returned the sentiment.

“I’ll see you soon, Rowan,” Aelin said, turning towards her rooms.

“Goodnight, Aelin,”

And as the princess headed back to her rooms, despite all that had transpired that day, she found herself smiling. Just a tiny little grin that persisted as she took a quick bath and changed into a nightgown and snuggled under her blankets and furs. And as sleep took her, beautifully deep and dark, she felt lighter than she had in a long time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of an early update for you all! I didn't have to go into work today and it was miserable outside so I spent the whole day writing. I was really excited to share this chapter with all of you anyway, I loved writing it! You guys are the best reviewers ive ever had on a story so let me know what you guys think! I always get super excited when I see someone left a review, im pretty sure I read them all like 5 times.


	16. Chapter 16

After the disruption caused by Orlon’s unexpected illness, Aelin and Rowan fell back into their easy rhythm. Before they knew it, a month and a half flashed by.

They were up every morning at dawn. Aelin hadn’t been late once since his return, a fact that she knew probably surprised Rowan at least a bit, but perhaps not as much as when she asked him to stay longer, to do extra drills. She could see the approval spark in his pine green eyes as she continued to improve. In the short time he had been back to Orynth, Aelin felt as though Rowan had helped her improve more than she had in the past six months. She was stronger now, faster. She could keep up with him, handle more advanced techniques. And, surprising her, Rowan was now quicker with praise, though he still had no problem pointing out any shortcomings the moment his keen eyes picked them out.

But, she enjoyed training, actually enjoyed spending time with Rowan. He still didn’t talk much, but had grown more vocal and more comfortable around her, teasing between the snarling as they sparred. He would tell her tales of Doranelle and of his exploits across the world, stories of war and glory and blood. It amazed her how much he had seen in his years, a thought that made her breath catch in her throat.

Aelin was nearing the age where it would be clear if she would Settle or not. Part of her longed to, to be able to experience the world like Rowan had, to do everything she wanted, to go everywhere she wanted to see… but another part of her was frightened of it. Aedion and Lys and Elide and Ren… they weren’t Fae. They were not blessed with long life. Immortality seemed rather lonely if she had no one to share it with. 

It was early afternoon. The spring day was beautiful, and part of Aelin wanted nothing more than to sprawl out in the sun on the soft grass of the garden with a box of her favorite chocolates and the book she was currently reading, but another more vicious, primal part of her sang as she fought Rowan. Today, she used her longsword, a beautiful thing Aedion had made for her by the finests smiths in Terrasen for her eighteenth birthday. Glimmering, polished silver and an ornate handle made it perhaps look more like decoration than a weapon, but only a fool would think that it wasn’t deadly in Aelin’s hands, no matter how pretty it was. 

Rowan still handled her maneuvers with practiced ease, but she saw how his brows now furrowed in concentration as they fought. She had improved, could see it in the way Rowan moved when they fought. He now had to put in effort, which means she was getting closer and closer to being able to best him. 

Aelin was too engrossed in her movement to notice anyone approaching until they were close. Multiple people with familiar scents, and, judging by their jovial tones, hell-bent on interrupting her training.

Without words, both she and Rowan lowered their weapons. They had been fighting for a while now, Aelin mostly on the defensive, but still keeping up enough that Rowan hadn’t been able to best her. She saw the flash of annoyance in his eyes at the interruption as Fenrys led her fledgling court into the clearing they had chosen for training today.

“Why are you scowling? Aren’t you glad to see us?” Aedion asked, motioning to Lysandra, Elide, and Ren.

“Normally, yes,” Aelin said. “But you interrupted our match. I was just about to win,”

Rowan narrowed his eyes at her blatant lie, not that any of her friends believed her either. Fenrys, in fact, scoffed loudly, earning a glare from the princess that he returned with a tiny smirk.

They spent most nights together at this point. Not always tangled between the sheets with Aelin writhing beneath him, but some nights they would just lay in front of the fire and pass a bottle of wine back and forth as they shared stories of their lives. Fenrys told her stories that made her laugh, clutching her belly as she giggle uncontrollably. He told her stories of the troubles he got into with his twin brother when he was younger. Aelin could tell he cared for him greatly. He told her of Maeve, of the blood oath and serving in her court and… serving her in other ways too. On the killing fields, and in the bed chambers. When he has told her this, had shared this vulnerable piece of information that she knew had made him nervous, Aelin had been furious to the point she worried she would burst into flames. What her aunt forced her friend to do, what he did to protect his brother…

The more Fenrys or Rowan told her of Maeve, the more she began to truly and utterly despise her aunt. And the thought of the Fae warriors, her friends, going back to that demon…

She would think about that later. 

“Well, we miss you, Aelin,” Lysandra pouted, planting her hands on her hips. “We don’t get to see you all day, and I really want to go into the city. I need a new gown,”

“You  _ want  _ a new gown,” Aedion chimed in. 

“What’s the difference?”

“So, what are you doing today?” Ren asked, glancing around at the weapons in their hands. 

“Nothing, now that you all interrupted,” Aelin drawled, leaning her weight on her sword.

“No need to be rude, princess,” Fenrys said. “Maybe we came to help,”

Aelin raised a brow. “Really? Because I know for a fact that Lysandra has never handled a sword,”

“How hard can it be?” Lysandra said with indignation, breezing towards Aelin and grabbing her blade. She went to lift it, with atrocious form, but her delicate face screwed in effort. “Why is it so rutting heavy?”

Aelin cast a look towards Rowan, as if to ask,  _ Do you see what I have to deal with? _

But the Fae prince only smiled.  _ At least they’re amusing. _

The princess raised a brow.  _ You find my friends amusing? _

_ My companions are snarling, ancient warriors. This is a refreshing change of pace. _

_ Well then, I suppose they could stay for a while. _

“Why would I need to use a sword when I can just shift and rip out someone’s throat?” Lysandra growled at Aedion, who was critiquing her form as she stood hunched over, the tip of Aelin’s blade buried in the dirt as she struggled to hold it up. 

From the side, Elide covered her mouth as she laughed.

“I wouldn’t be laughing,” Ren said to the future Lady of Perranth. “I’ve used swords longer than you are tall,”

“Okay, I’m tired of talking,” Aelin sighed, snatching her blade back from Lysandra. “Who wants to fight?”

“I’ll do it,” Aedion said, unsheathing the blade at his hip and taking a step closer. “Let’s see if you’ve gotten any better,”

“My money's on Aelin,” Fenrys said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Mine’s on Aedion,” Ren said.

“Well, I expect you all to pull out your coin if you’re going to place bets,” Rowan said.

Aelin looked to Rowan with surprise and quirked a brow.  _ And who is your gold on? _

_ I think you already know the answer to that. _

…

Rowan watched as bets were placed, as Aedion began to taunt his little cousin while he stretched his arms, but was just watching him evenly. She wouldn’t let his words bother her, or at least not show it.

He wondered how this fight would play out. Aelin was a ferocious fighter, fast and deadly, but he hadn’t seen Aedion fight in three years. He was sure the Ashryver prince had picked up a few tricks in their time apart. 

“I don’t want to embarrass you in front of everybody,” Aedion said, making a sweeping gesture to the small crowd accumulated around them.

“Are you quite done talking?” Aelin said.

“Fine,” Aedion shrugged, raising his blade. “Let’s fi-”

Aelin had crashed her blade against his before he could finish at a speed that even Rowan was impressed by. Aedion was just able to raise his blade again when she spun swiftly and swung. 

Lysandra whooped in delight as she watched the fight, settling down on a sun-warmed stone. Elide’s dark eyes followed their movements with bright fascination as Ren seemed to mark every single maneuver they made. 

Aelin and Aedion were a sight to behold. Rowan had seen them fight before, but it had been either drills they had done in training, or a fist fight that had been fueled by rage. But they had years of practice to hone their skills, to become faster and stronger. They fought with a ferocity that put some of his best soldiers to shame, swinging and ducking and slashing. They were little more than flashes of golden hair in the dappled sunlight. 

Aedion swung his broadsword at Aelin’s stomach in a move that could have disemboweled plenty of men, but the princess jumped back fast enough to avoid what might have been a nasty wound. If he had cut Aelin like that, Rowan would have returned the favor to the Ashryver prince. 

She came at her cousin in a series of slashes and jabs, the sound of the metal clashing ringing throughout the Oakwald. Rowan studied everything, from her footwork to where she chose to strike. She was doing well. If she kept on improving at this rate, she would be a mighty warrior by the time the year was up. 

Aelin batted away Aedion's blade with her own, giving her an opening to swoop down and deliver a quick, dirty punch to Aedion's abdomen that efficiently knocked the wind out of him and stunned him just enough that Aelin was able to rest the tip of her blade against the hollow of Aedion's throat.

His Ashryver eyes skipped down to the blade before he dropped his own weapon and held his hands up in defeat.

"Looks like I underestimated you," he said.

"Sounds like an excuse," she quipped, brushing back a few strands of hair that had escaped her braid. She tossed a quick look to her friends. "Pay up,"

There was some grumbling, mostly from Ren, as gold was exchanged. Aedion retrieved his blade from the forest floor and looked towards Rowan.

"Whatever you're teaching her, it's working," 

Before Rowan could reply, Aelin's voice cut him off, loud and purposeful.

"Now. Who's next?" her hands were planted on her hips as she surveyed the group. "Ren?"

The dark haired man stood and unsheathed twin blades that rested on his back. 

Once again, bets were made, the sound of coin jingling reaching Rowan ears. 

Ren didn’t waste time with teasing like Aedion had. The pair dove right into the fight, a whirlwind of flashing steel. Aelin had to move faster this round, if only to avoid the double knives swinging at her. She handled it well, with a smile on her face nonetheless. Rowan hid his own grin behind his hand. Only Aelin would look at death and smile. It was a sight Rowan knew would unnerve most opponents. 

Aelin made a wide swing at Ren’s head, which to an untrained eye looked like a wild, lazy move, but Rowan knew better. It was a distraction, causing his attention to go up while Aelin went low and knocked his feet out from him. She planted one foot firmly on his chest while pointing her sword at his heart. Her head cocked to the side.

“Really, Ren. I expected more,”

“We don’t all have Fae speed,” he grumbled, but accepted her hand back up to his feet. 

“Excuses, excuses,” tutted Fenrys, shaking his golden head. 

“Big words for someone yet to lift a sword,” Rowan said, raising a brow.

“Now, that sounded like a challenge,” Elide said. 

Fenrys raised a cocky brow, sweeping a blade up and testing it’s feel and balance. Satisfied, he planted his feet in a wide stance and tilted his chin. 

“I do have a hundred or so more years of experience than you,” Fenrys said, eyes sweeping over the princess in a manner that made Rowan hold back an unpleasant face. 

“A hundred or so years more practice at running your damned mouth,” Aelin snipped back, twirling the blade. 

“You seemed to learn the same thing, just quicker,” 

“I’m a fast learner,”

Aelin made the first move, what seemed to be like an exploratory strike to his torso that Fenrys was easily able to parry away. The princess was able to lead the offence for a while, the young Fae dancing on his toes around the clearing. Rowan watched him. His footwork could be improved a bit. Fenrys was a good swordsman, a far better bowman. On the killing fields, he tended to rely on his magic to make up for any shortcomings he had with the blade. 

He wondered how long it would take for Fenrys to make that first jump. He wondered if Aelin would be ready for it. It wasn’t a situation they had trained for, but then again, he couldn’t train her for every situation.

They exchanged blows for a good while. Rowan could hear the small crowd murmuring, could hear Aedion making comments about the maneuvers and techniques used. 

For now, Rowan kept his observations to himself, not wanting to break their focus. Two people with Fae blood fighting to this extent could lead to serious injuries if someone were to slip up. Rowan had seen it plenty of times first hand. 

Aelin came at Fenrys with a particularly tricky combination. A sense of satisfaction came over Rowan when he realized it was something he had shown her earlier that week. She had mastered it rather quickly. She could have gotten him right there if he hadn’t-

Fenrys jumped from his spot before Aelin to behind her. Her blade sliced through nothing but air, and Fenrys brought his arching towards her back. As quick as a wink, Aelin brought her sword up behind her back and caught the attack. With a grunt of effort, she pushed Fenrys away and spun to face him.

“Playing dirty, are we?” Aelin said, brow creeping up.

“Can you blame me?” 

A shrug. “No,”

Aelin kicked at the dirt, sending a fan of it into Fenrys’ eyes. He cursed, slapping a hand to his face and staggering backwards. The princess launched himself at him, catching Fenrys around the waist and tackling him to the ground in a move that was more akin to a tavern brawler than a princess. Aelin pinned him down and pressed his forearm against his windpipe.

He struggled, but Aelin pressed down harder.

“Yield,” she hissed, leaning in close.

Fenrys breathed out a curse, but held his hands up in surrender. 

“Rutting bastard,” Aelin growled, pushing off of him and standing. “Cheater!”

“Cheater?” Fenrys repeated incredulously, rubbing at his irritated eyes. “We didn’t say we couldn’t used magic,”

“You seemed about ready to slice right through my shoulder,”

“As if I could ever hurt you, princess,” Fenrys smirked, reaching out and brushing his knuckles against her cheekbone before she batted away his hand testily with a resounding snarl.

“You keep on antagonizing her and you might lose a finger,” Elide warned. 

The Fae warrior grinned at that, leaning forward and murmuring something in Aelin’s ear, which must have been suggestive given how her nostrils flared and blood rushed to her cheeks before slugging him on the shoulder with a punch that would definitely leave a bruise. He groaned in pain and clenched his arm.

Rowan couldn’t stop the laugh from escaping his lips, neither could any of the others, but it was his voice that drew Fenrys’s attention. His dark eyes narrowed sharply. 

“I don’t see you lifting a blade, Whitethorn,”

“You literally interrupted us sparring not an hour ago,” Aelin said. “We were in the middle of a fight,”

“Then do you wish to finish it?”

Aelin’s head whipped towards Rowan, eyes questioning as if she wasn’t sure if she heard him correctly. 

“What, you’re going to let them wear me out and  _ then  _ fight?” the princess asked. 

“Admitting defeat?”

Her lips parted before squinting at him murderously. “Fine,”

She clenched her fist around the blade and strolled back into the center of the clearing as if she were just taking a leisurely walk around the gardens and not about to have what would most likely be a vicious sparring match with an ancient Fae warrior. 

Fenrys stalked off to the side, still rubbing at his arm, and plopping down next to Aedion, who smugly studied the injury his little cousin had dealt the male. A strange thing to take pride in, but pride nonetheless. 

“Do you need to stretch?” Aelin teased. “Maybe your muscles have gotten stiff in your old age,”

“You’re stalling,” 

“What? You have eternity. Surely you can wait a few extra minutes,”

She must have noted the lack of amusement on his face because she rolled her eyes and released an overly dramatic sigh.

“Very well…” 

Rowan struck first, Aelin blocking him firmly, the force of which could have shattered a lesser man’s arm. Rowan pressed against her blade, getting in her face in a way he knew would intimidate some of the warriors he sparred. He got close enough to see the bead of sweat that slipped down her temple, over her cheek, her jaw. His eyes trailed it as it traveled down the swoop of her neck, the dip of her collar bone, lower, until it vanished from view under her thin, white shirt…

Aelin shoved him back with a strength that surprised him. She was clearly not weary from her previous bouts and stalked towards him, eyes intent and shining. She struck twice in rapid succession, one aimed for his torso and the other at his neck.  Rowan met each blow with his own steel and a smile. She was fun to spar with, truly a force of nature. He had fought skilled fighters plenty of times before, such as Lorcan, but his commander often times fought with nothing but brutal efficiency. Aelin fought for the thrill of it, with vigour and ferocity. 

Rowan went on the offensive, this time working her back towards the treeline. Before he could trap her between him and the firm bark of a tree, she spun out of his reach. They clashed together then, teeth bared in mutual snarls as their blades screamed against one another’s. Her foot shot out in an attempt to knock him off his feet, but he slipped away.

This would be a fun fight.

…

Aelin wasn’t sure how long they struggled against one another. She had been watching Rowan fight for years, knew the way he moved, what arm or foot he favored. But, in return, he knew how she fought. Before, Rowan would still be able to best her easily. He had been taller and stronger and faster than she had been, but Aelin had grown and progressed. Now, the outcomes of their matches depended on who could focus the longest, who wouldn’t make a stupid mistake, who had the greater stamina. 

She was sweating, so was Rowan, his silver hair sticking to his forehead. Their small crowd was still murmuring every so often, but she ignored them. Their voices would only distract her.

Aelin caught his swing, pushing his blade hard enough that it left his torso vulnerable. She used the opportunity to plant a firm kick to his chest that sent him staggering back a few steps. There was a feral grin on her face as she started forward, ready to end this and finally best Rowan Whitethorn. 

Her magic jumped just a moment too late to warn her. Before she could reach Rowan, she was blasted back by a hard wall of air, knocking her off her feet. She grunted as she hit the forest floor, wasting no time before scrambling back to her feet, shooting a sharp look at the Fae warrior before her.

“So we’re using magic, huh?” she panted.

Rowan shrugged. “I didn’t hear anyone say we couldn’t,”

A sigh. “Fine,”

Aelin drew her sword back and sent it flying Rowan’s way. He jumped to the side before it could skewer him, pine green eyes looking at her in a mix of confusion and surprise.

Flames danced between Aelin’s fingers. “Swords are boring, anyway,”

A dangerous smile found its way to Rowan’s lips, tossing his own blade off to the side. “Right you are, princess,”

A sharp shard of ice flew towards her chest, but it sizzled to steam from a shield of flame before it even got close. In return, Aelin sent a punch of fire his way, which he sidestepped. 

Her magic always seemed to sing in response to his. It filled her with exhilaration, with every gust of cold wind or blade of ice thrown her way. And, if the light in his eye was any indication, his magic seemed to react the same. Hers always seemed to be… almost playing with his, ice and embers intertwined. 

A wall of flame flew at Rowan, only to be stopped by a shield of his own, leading to a wave of flame shooting up and scorching the treetops. Aelin heard muffled curses from the side, but they didn’t cause a forest fire so it couldn’t have been so bad. 

They fell into a deadly dance of magic, slipping and dodging and punching. Part of Aelin felt as though this was the best she had fought in her life, the way her body was moving, her speed and her reflexes. She loved it, loved every single moment of it. 

The ground was almost torn up from their fighting, chunks of grass missing or burnt, craters from their feet. It just added another level to their match, to see if they could avoid tripping or losing balance. 

Blasts of fire and wind hit one another so hard that the force sent both of them skidding backwards. The heat of her fire kissed her face as Aelin bent her knees, feet creating valleys in the ground below her. When her fires finally wisped away, she looked up, only to find Rowan on his haunches. Their eyes met briefly before matching snarls appeared on their faces. If Aelin hadn’t been so pissed and eager on winning or so used to Rowan’s moods, perhaps the look in his eyes would have frightened her, but she knew better. Her hands curled into fists, covered in flames. She was sure she was quite the sight at the moment, teeth bared, hair messy with twigs and leaves tangled within, dirt smudged on her face and her clothing… but she couldn’t care less at the moment. 

Simultaneously, they lunged at one another. Aelin was eager to send her flaming fist crashing down upon him, but before they could clash, strong hands firmly caught her around the waist and yanked her back.

She was just about to light the offender on fire before they spoke.

“Okay, calm down, it’s me,” Aedion murmured softly, as if he were speaking to a spooked animal.

Aelin reeled herself in before she seriously hurt her cousin, but testily shoved his arms off of her. She cast a sweeping look across the clearing, trying to find reason for the interruption, only to see Fenrys releasing Rowan, who did not seem pleased to have the younger Fae’s hands on him. She looked towards the others, finding looks of worry in their eyes.

“What the rutting hell was that for?!” Aelin cried, whirling on her cousin.

Aedion held his hands up in defense. “It looked like you two were going to kill each other!”’

“And you decide the best course of action was to grab onto two people with Fae blood? When they were in the middle of a fight?”

“I did worry about losing a hand… or my head,” he admitted. “But I didn’t want you getting hurt,”

“I wasn’t going to get hurt!” Aelin snapped. “I was going to win!”

“You weren’t even close to finishing that fight, Aelin,” Rowan said, still glaring at Fenrys. She would have to admit, Fenrys was mighty brave for risking serious injury by grabbing Rowan, the most powerful full-blooded Fae male alive, like that. He had probably been dealt so many injuries by his commander over the years that it didn’t faze him anymore. 

“But I might have,” Aelin said, looking up at Rowan when he came to a stop beside her. 

He raised a brow.  _ Do you really think that? _

Aelin stubbornly crossed her arms over her just.  _ Maybe, you bastard.  _

Rowan sighed and wiped at the sweat that dotted his brow. “I think that’s enough for today,” 

“Tired?” Aelin taunted.

“Perhaps I’m just being generous,” Rowan said, jutting his chin out towards Lysandra. “Your friends say they miss you. Have the rest of the day to yourself,”

Aelin squinted at him critically, trying to see if this was a trick of any kind, but found no deceit in his eyes. He simply picked up his blade and sheathed it before grabbing hers from the underbush where it had landed. 

“I can’t believe you threw this at me,” he said as Aelin took her blade.

“Well, surprising you was kind of the point,” she said breathily. “Perhaps one day, we’ll get through a match without being interrupted,”

“Perhaps,” Rowan nodded. “But, for now, your friends are waiting. You’ve been working hard, you deserve some time off,”

Aelin glanced over her shoulder, to find her friends meandering about. She turned back towards Rowan. “Well, thank you then. I’ll see you tomorrow,”

“Don’t be late,”

“Never!”

…

Aelin left alongside her court, Fenrys making to go with them before Rowan stopped him. The golden-haired Fae seemed mildly annoyed when he turned to him.

“The princess is done for today but you are not,” Rowan said, tossing a blade towards his companion.

Fenrys caught it, making a face. “What? Why?”

“If Aelin was able to beat you so quickly, either your skill is lacking or you were easily distracted by a pretty woman,”

“She is rather pretty, isn’t she?”

Rowan said nothing, pressing his lips together in a tight line. Perhaps it had been inappropriate of him to call Aelin pretty. She was, he supposed, objectively beautiful, but it wasn’t something he should be talking about, least of all with Fenrys. He was there to train her, that was all.

“That’s enough talking,”

Fenrys sighed deeply. “Fine. I suppose I could use the practice,”

Rowan lost himself within the monotony of the drills, letting his mind and magic forget about Aelin Galathynius for the rest of the afternoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another early update! I had a lot of free time so I was able to get a lot done, and also, you guys left me the NICEST comments on the last chapter! It almost had be crying. The idea that people really enjoy my story, my writing, will re-read my fic, get excited when I update is just crazy to me!! But it makes me so so happy!!!!! Thank you guys so much for all the support! I hope you all like the chapter! Let me know what you think! <3


	17. Chapter 17

Aelin returned to the fortress and immediately headed towards the kitchens to scarf down some lunch. Her magic had gobbled away at all her reserves and if she was going to make it through shopping with Lysandra and Elide, she would need a little something in her stomach. 

The princess then scrubbed herself off in a quick bath, wiping away dirt and sweat and picking sticks and dead leaves from her hair. She had truly gotten filthy today. 

She changed into a casual day dress, thin enough to keep her cool in the hot afternoon sun before rushing into the city with Elide and Lysandra by her side, eager to make the most out of her rare free time.

It was really nice, Aelin supposed, that Rowan had gifted her the afternoon off. She really had been rather busy lately, training all day only to return, eat, bathe, and collapse into bed. She hadn’t been spending as much time with her friends. She missed their company, missed laughing and gossiping with them.

They went into a dress shop that they favored, saying hello to the shopkeeper who they had grown familiar with over the years before brushing through dress after dress. Lysandra claimed she needed a new gown for Beltane and needed to get one before Evangaline arrived. 

“You still look pissed off,” Elide commented as Aelin ran the tips of her fingers over the fabric of a gown.

“I’m not pissed off,” the princess protested. “I’m just… calming down. I didn’t get the chance to relax after the fight, considering it was  _ interrupted,”  _

“You two seriously looked like you were going to rip out each other's throats!” Lysandra defended.

“They weren’t going to do that,” Elide said.

“We just snarl at each other a lot,” Aelin explained. “It’s been like that for years. All bark and no bite,”

“Your canines are sharp, if you do end up biting it won't be pleasant,” 

Aelin refrained from rolling her eyes, snatching up a deep purple dress and holding it out to Elide. “You should try this on. The color looks great on you,”

The small woman took the dress from the princess. “It was amazing to watch you two, though. To see Rowan Whitethorn in action…”

“He’s a lot more smiley than you made him out to be,” Lysandra mused. “I saw him laugh and grin! He’s very handsome when he does that,”

“Well, he wasn’t always like that,”

“Handsome?”

“ _ Smiley,”  _ Aelin corrected. She supposed he had always been handsome, even when she hadn’t really noticed.

“So you don’t find him attractive?” Elide teased with a tiny smirk.

Aelin’s lips curled up. “I didn’t say that… but, he’s  _ Rowan.  _ It’s… strange to even think about him like that,”

“Hmm,” Lysandra hummed, plucking a dress and draping it over her forearm. “But you have no problem thinking about Lord Fenrys in that manner,”

Aelin’s head whipped towards her friend, eyes wide and jaw slacked. “How did you find out?”

“That he was sharing your bed?” Lysandra said, quirking a brow. “He looks at you like he knows what you look like naked. I recognize that gleam in a man’s eye, even if you two were very careful. Why didn’t you tell us?”

Elide let out a tiny laugh while Aelin’s cheeks burned. The princess worried her bottom lip as the scrounged up the proper words to say. 

“The less people who knew, the easier it would be,” Aelin admitted. “I didn’t want to get shit from Aedion or Orlon if they found out. I know they wouldn’t like me sharing my bed with one of Maeve’s warriors. I can practically hear Aedion now, talking about how Maeve probably sent him to seduce me to return back to Doranelle with him,”

“That’s ridiculous,” Elide said.

“ _ I _ know that,” Aelin concurred. “But, it’s what he would think. And then, we didn’t want Rowan scenting it. That would make training beyond awkward,”

Lysandra shrugged. “I suppose I can understand your reasoning… but now that it’s out in the open… what’s it like?”

Aelin bit her lip and raised her brows, an expression on its own that left her companions gasping and squealing and asking for more details. Their frantic whispers filled the dress shop, scattered with laughter and un-ladylike snorts, but they were happy. She wasn’t sure how long they tried on dresses and whispered to each other through the walls of the changing rooms, but eventually Lysandra complained of hunger.

The shifter had ended up purchasing a lovely emerald, beaded gown that matched her bright eyes perfectly, almost making them glow. Elide ended up with an elegant violet piece, the one Aelin had picked up for her. The smaller girl tended to trust Aelin’s eye when it came to fashion. And Aelin herself had chosen a gown that was perhaps a little too scandalous for a princess… but she found herself unable to care about what her family or the lords would say. They would only see it the night of Beltane anyway, and by then she could just claim that she had no other options.

She was sure they would eventually give in, especially on Beltane. It was her night, a night of fire and freedom. She had always loved it, loved leaping over flames with her friends, laughing and drinking wine while the musicians played jovial tunes.  

The girls headed back to Orynth just in time for dinner, enjoying an excellent meal together with the rest of their court. Aelin, Lysandra, and Elide hung around in the princess’ chambers until late into the night, Aelin engrossed in a book, Lysandra in the form of a snow leopard sprawled out across her bed, and Elide drafting a letter to send to her parents back in Perranth. They ate chocolates that Aelin had sent up to her chambers and enjoyed each other’s company. 

Yes, it had been a rather good day. 

…

Another three days passed. Aelin fell back into her normal routine with Rowan, waking up early, running, and training until she could barely move.

Her magic was growing stronger and steadier with each passing day. Her control was impeccable, her flames obeying her every will. She remembered when she had been afraid of her magic, terrified of it even. But now, Aelin couldn’t imagine herself without it. She loved her burning embers, the way the wildfire in her blood sang when she used it. 

She understood why Maeve sent Rowan to train her. His immense well of magic was like her, his own powers seemed to recognize hers. When they sparred or even when she was near him, Aelin could feel her magic reaching towards his, jumping and playing. She didn’t know what it was, but it had been growing especially frequent as of late, an occurrence she was sure Rowan had noted as well. 

She wasn’t sure why her magic reacted like this. It wasn’t the same with the other magic users she had met. Aelin had her suspicions, but they were too outlandish, nearly impossible.

They had finished their morning run and their warm up drills. They started with a casual sparring match, movements slow as they worked their bodies into a familiar rhythm. They began with just fists, but slowly worked into adding their magics into the fray. Aelin knew neither of them were fighting at their full capacity, which left room for her to fill the air with casual conversation.

“Beltane is tomorrow,” she breathed, sending a small, concentrated burst of flame Rowan’s way.

The Fae warrior simply grunted in response as he side-stepped her blow. He had probably already seen the piles of wood being set up for tomorrow’s celebrations. Half of Orynth was in a tizzy, preparing food or decorations, relatives and friends arriving day in and day out. 

She rolled her eyes softly at his lack of words and focused back into her technique. Aelin shielded against a powerful gust of wind, her magic shivering in excitement in a manner that sent a shiver coursing down her spine. She looked at Rowan to see if he had felt something similar, but only saw his brows knitted together slightly. He was thinking hard about something, but he kept moving.

They began to move faster, attacks coming rapidly and precise. Aelin worked her way closer and closer to Rowan as he did the same. 

It felt as though she had fallen into a trace as they moved, ducking and swirling in a dance of death. The rise and fall of her chest matched Rowan’s as their magics clashed together. Her feet seemed to move on their own volition as they continued to close the distance between her and the Fae warrior. She didn’t know what was pulling her towards him, but couldn’t find the strength to ignore it. 

She kicked out as his legs, but he slipped away before she could make contact. In turn, Rowan sent a punch towards her head, which Aelin was able to bob under before she received what would have been a painful bruise. 

They were a flurry of punches and blocks, of flame and wind, of beating hearts and heavy breathing.

Rowan reached out to grab her shoulder, but Aelin caught his wrist tightly before he could. With her free hand, she brought up a dagger of concentrated flame to the strong column of his throat, only to find a matching blade of hard ice against her own.

Aelin hissed out a breath as her eyes flickered up to meet his. There was an intensity in them she hadn’t seen before. Not anger but… something else. She could feel his breath puffing against her flushed skin as she held his gaze. There was something in her gut, like a thin string that urged her closer and closer to Rowan, though her chest was already flush against his, the tips of their noses nearly brushing. She could feel the heat from his body radiating into her, hear his heart pounding against his ribs. 

Aelin licked her lips, waiting for him to do something, to say something, anything.

But, he was silent for a few moments as his eyes searched hers. Aelin didn’t waiver for a single second. 

“Aelin…” he murmured. Her name sounded soft falling from his lips, tender almost. Her breath caught in her throat. “Aelin, do you trust me?”

She blinked once, brows furrowed slightly as she let his words sink in. Did she trust him? This male she had known for years, who had saved her and helped her through some of her darkest moments… she knew there was only one answer.

“Yes,” Aelin gasped out. “With my life,”

The dagger of fire fizzled out as Rowan took her hand with surprising tenderness, facing her palm up. He pulled out a blade sheathed on his thigh, the edge of the silver hovering over her flesh before her dragged it across, as gently as he could. Aelin barely felt the sting as the blood began to well from her hand. Rowan then took it and broke the skin on his own palm. Her nostrils flared as she scented it.

Rowan hesitated a moment, giving Aelin another chance to back down, but she wouldn’t. He seemed to think the same thing that Aelin had- they were  _ carranam.  _ It explained her magic’s reaction to his, why it was always pulling her closer to the Fae warrior standing before her. Aelin reached out, the tips of her fingers trailing lightly over his own.

There was a crease of worry between his brows, not because of her, but because of himself. He was showing her that he too trusted her with his life, letting her into his magic, through his inner walls.

"I trust you, Rowan Whitethorn," Aelin repeated firmly enough that Rowan looked into her eyes again. "To whatever end,"

That seemed to be enough for him. His fingers twisted with hers before their palms met, and her world shattered.

Aelin gasped, eyes rolling back into her head as Rowan's power barreled into her with a force akin to a hurricane. It nearly knocked her off her feet, knees buckling, but Rowan held her up with a strong arm around her shoulders, his hand tangling into the hair on the back of her head. Aelin's free hand twisted into Rowan's tunic, pressing her face against his chest as she tried to remember how to breathe, how to do anything, with this much power rushing through her. She felt as though she could make and end worlds, conquer the very gods she prayed to.

Fire and ice and embers and wind twisted around them, cocooning Aelin and the Fae prince in their own world.

She finally found the strength to lean back far enough to look at Rowan, her friend, her mentor, her  _ carranam.  _ His pine green eyes were just as wide and exhilarated as hers. His winds were disturbing his silver locks, her flames glimmering in his eyes. It was wild and beautiful and  _ them.  _

“Rowan…” Aelin whispered, the only thing that she could force to her lips at the moment.

He looked at her intently, as if he could see into her very soul and said, “Fireheart,”

She wondered if he knew what that name meant to her, if he knew the last time someone had called her that was when her mother and father departed for their trip, never to return again. Her heart throbbed it hear it again but with joy rather than pain. A shaky smile found its way to her lips as she tried to find words to describe how she felt, though it was indescribable. She was saved from the struggle by a sharp intake of breath from the treeline.

She and Rowan whipped towards the sound, palms still pressed together, as Fenrys looked at them.  His lips were parted, eyes impossibly wide as he took in the pair.

“Holy gods,” Fenrys breathed in disbelief, running a hand through his golden curls. “You’re  _ carranam,” _

Their mixed blood was dripping down her wrist, staining the sleeves of her tunic. 

It took Aelin a few moments to be able to think straight enough to finally let go of Rowan’s hand and sever the connection. The loss felt like having the wind knocked out of her, but Rowan placed a steadying hand on her back until she was able to catch her breath again. 

Her eyes never left Rowan as she spoke. “Yes. I suppose we are,”

…

Aelin was barely able to think straight for the rest of the afternoon. Fenrys bombarded them with questions that she allowed Rowan to answer. She could barely wrap her head around what had just transpired. Rowan Whitethorn, fierce immortal warrior, was her  _ carranam.  _ What were the chances that she would ever find one, let alone it happening to be the male who had trained her in magic for so long. And now, they were bonded. He would always be her  _ carranam.  _

Aelin stood off to the side, half-heartedly listening to Fenrys talk. Her body was still trembling from having the force of Rowan’s magic alongside her own dancing under her skin. It was like nothing she had ever felt before, like a northern blizzard roaring through her. Aelin wrapped her arms around herself and shivered.

Rowan seemed to notice her state and snarled at Fenrys with enough ferocity that the younger Fae excused himself from the clearing, stating that he would go train with Aedion and the other soldiers until they had time to cool off sufficiently. 

The clearing was silent after Fenrys departed. It seemed that she and Rowan had scared off the birds and the beasts and the Little Folk with their little display. 

Aelin shut her eyes and took deep, steadying breaths. She heard rather than saw Rowan stop before her, acutely aware of every single move he made. She felt calloused fingers scrape against her cheekbone as he brushed a strand of hair behind her pointed ear. Aelin’s eyes fluttered open at the soft touch, not expecting it.

“Are you alright?” Rowan asked, face etched with worry.

Aelin nodded. “I’m fine. It’s just… a lot to take in,”

A beat of silence.

“Let’s go back to the fortress,” Rowan said. “You should rest. You’ll have a long day tomorrow,”

He was right. With training in the morning and afternoon and the Beltane festivities through the night, she wouldn’t have a moments break the following day. Perhaps she should just retire early tonight. Curling up in bed did sound rather lovely at the moment.

They ran back to Orynth, slower than they would normally take it. It helped to steady Aelin’s limbs, put her body back into rhythm. By the time they returned to the stone fortress, she felt much better. But still, her mind was racing.

She walked by Rowan’s side, the pair silent. She didn’t know what to say. What was there to say? She glanced at Rowan, tried to read the expression on his face, but couldn't discern anything. His brows were furrowed, lips drawn into a tight line, but that was his normal, brooding face. 

“Rowan,” Aelin said at length, just before they reached the doors to her rooms, stopping him with a soft hand on his arm. Perhaps a week ago, she would have shied away at the simple contact… but recently, she had shared some of the darkest pieces of herself with him. Perhaps not all, but some. He had allowed her into his powers, a hand on his arm was nothing at this point.

The Fae prince turned to her expectantly.

“What… what does this mean?” she asked, palms turned upwards helplessly. 

He hesitated a beat, head cocked to the side. “It means that our magic is compatible,”

That seemed rather anticlimactic. “That’s… that’s it? What do we do with it? Does it change anything?”

“We could train with it, learn how to handle the power properly,” he said. “It could be invaluable on a killing field. This thing, this bond…” he drifted off. 

Aelin waited for him to continue, to say anything, but he just shook his head softly. It hurt more than Aelin cared to admit. 

“Do you wish it were someone else?”

His eyes were on her faster than Aelin thought possible, an incredulous look on his face. “What?”

Aelin could only shrug. “It’s just… Rowan, you’ve been fighting on the killing fields for hundreds of years, training and commanding. You’re practically a living legend here in the north and in plenty of other places I’m sure… but I’m not even twenty, I’m-” Aelin stopped herself before she could continue, standing straighter with a stubborn set to her jaw. “I’m not even twenty and I’m a fierce warrior and a formidable magic user. I can best mortal and immortal alike. Why would you wish it were someone else?”

At this, Rowan smiled, truly smiled, wide and without hesitation. “I’m honored to be your  _ carranam,  _ Aelin. Truly.”

Aelin grinned back at him, feeling as though a weight had been lifted from her. “I fear that the ocean between our continents will make sharing our power difficult at times,”

“Should you need me, Aelin, I will come,” Rowan vowed, placing a hand over his heart. 

He would be there for her, no matter what. There was no way he could possibly know just how much those words meant to her. Rowan was a good male, a good friend, a soldier and her  _ carranam.  _

And the next words that came from her mouth, Aelin knew were dangerous words, but she said them anyway.

“As will I,”

There were heavy implications to her claim. She would cross the oceans for him, leave her kingdom and go to the aid of a queen that she didn’t quite trust because that was where Rowan was, and where he always would be. But, she could tell by the look in his eyes she he knew that it wouldn’t be for Maeve, never for her. But for  _ him.  _

“I could never ask that of you,” Rowan whispered. 

Aelin pursed her lips.  _ I know you couldn’t, but you don’t have to. _

Rowan looked as though he may say something, may take another step closer, but he never got the chance to. Rapid footfalls echoed down the hall before a small force launched itself at Aelin’s legs, nearly making her tumble to the ground. She managed to keep her balance, but noted Rowan reaching forward to steady her if needed.

“Aelin!”

The princess glanced down and saw a head of red-blonde hair buried in her trousers. Aelin beamed and squatted down, enveloping the young girl in a tight hug. 

“Evangeline!” the princess cooed, pulling back far enough to get a good look at the girl, taking her round cheeks into her hands. Her crystalline, blue eyes were sparkling with joy and excitement, the scars on her cheeks stretched as she smiled. Aelin planted a smacking kiss to the crown of her head. “Oh dear, look at you! Why, you’ve must have grown an entire foot!”

Evangeline was bouncing on the balls of her feet as she looked at Aelin. “Nearly!” it was then that her gaze drifted from the princess to the towering Fae warrior beside her, neck craning to get a good look. The sight of this slip of a girl beside hundreds of pounds of lethal, immortal muscle was nearly a comical sight.

“Evangeline,” Aelin said, putting a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “This is Prince Rowan Whitethorn. Rowan, this is Evangeline, Lysandra’s ward.”

Rowan bowed at the waist, probably the most princely she had ever seen. Evangeline returned the gesture with a dainty curtsey of her own.

“Rowan’s been teaching me for many years,” Aelin explained.

“He’s Fae, like you,” the girl stated.

Aelin nodded. “Yes, and very old and very grumpy,”

The girl and the princess shared a giggle before another came down the hall.

“Evangeline!” Lysandra sighed, breezing towards her ward. Evangeline shuffled away from the princess to stand at the shifter’s leg, the woman placing a hand on the top of her head. “We were going to surprise you at dinner because you were training, but Evie insisted that she heard your voice and came running before I could stop her… I hope we didn’t interrupt…?”

Aelin shook her head as she stood back up to her full height. “No, no interruption. We just…” Aelin trailed off, glancing at the thin, white scar on her palm. “We just finished early today and Rowan decided to be a gentleman and walk me to my rooms,” 

She ignored the look of disdain the prince sent her way. 

“Well, I suppose we should nibble on a little bit of lunch then,” Aelin said to Lys and Evangeline. “They’ve brought in my favorite chocolates for Beltane but I know I can get the cooks to let us sample some early,”

Evangeline seemed rightly pleased at the prospect, and Lysandra would do whatever her ward pleased, especially after being parted for so long. 

Aelin turned to Rowan, nodding her head in parting. “I’ll see you in the morning, Rowan,”

The prince bowed his head with a tiny, knowing smile for the new bond they had forged this afternoon. “Until then,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another early update! I've been on a writing spree the last few days, it's all I want to do. I'm glad you guys liked the fight scenes last chapter! it was actually something I really struggled with so to hear that yall liked it makes my day! So, I hope you guys enjoyed this short chapter. Lmk what you think! Ik ive said this before, but I love love love reading your comments! Im always checking to see if someone posted something new!


	18. Chapter 18

The next morning, the palace was absolutely abuzz with preparations for the night’s festivities. Aelin had to slip around servants and delivery boys as she made her way down the halls for her training. She couldn't stop herself from trying to catch glimpses of whatever delicacies she would most likely be enjoying later on in the night. 

She was more excited than she cared to admit. Her dress was hanging up proudly in her rooms, ready to be donned tonight. She had yet to decide on what jewels she would be wearing tonight, but Lysandra and Evangeline promised to help her once she was relieved of training. 

Rowan was standing in his normal spot, eyes sporadically looking at the folk rushing by. She was sure he was amused by the way mortal hurried around. Rowan tended to take his time, each moved calculated and thought out. Immortals like him didn’t need to be harried and worried, always stressed about running out of time. He had nothing but time.

Aelin didn't know what she expected from their training session that day. After the revelation from the day before, she figured  _ something  _ may be different but… it was like every other day. They started out with their customary run through the forest, sparring to warm up, and then drills. She supposed it made sense. What would they change? They could access each other's powers, yes, but that didn't affect Rowan's cause to be here. 

The sun was strong today, kissing the flesh on Aelin’s face. Her skin had darkened from her time outside. She enjoyed what it did to her complexion, making her eyes pop and her hair brighter. 

She was sweating enough that she splashed cool, mountain water over her flushed face during her break. She was kneeling at the bank of a small stream, Rowan beside her, filling a skien with water. The princess sent him a small grin of thanks when he handed it to her to drink her fill. She took a few deep gulps, a couple drops dribbling from the corner of her mouth that she swiped away with her sleeve. She could practically hear advisors hissing at her for that behavior, but she was with Rowan. He didn’t care if her manners were atrocious because his would always be worse.

“Are you ready for the celebrations tonight?” Aelin asked, licking a few stray drops from her lips. The Fae prince didn’t say anything for a few moments, prompting the princess to raise her brows. “You  _ are  _ planning on coming, right?”

The barest wisp of a cringe passed over his face. “I cannot say that I was,”

Aelin gaped at him. “Rowan! It’s Beltane, you must!”

The Fae prince shook his head slightly. “I’m afraid I’m woefully unprepared. I cannot say I have anything to wear that it up to your standards,”

Aelin rolled her eyes. She figured he would only have his boring, but efficient, warrior garb. “Well, then we can just get you something suitable to wear,”

“Aelin, I-”

The princess shot forward, placing a soft hand on Rowan’s bicep. “Please say yes!”

There was a teasing slant to Rowan’s mouth. “Did you just use your manners?”

Aelin pinched his side, and Rowan barked out a laugh. The sound was bright and clear and she relished it. It made her inexplicably happy to see him like this, eyes shining. He looked so much younger without that stony expression that used to always be on his face. She was happy he was comfortable enough around her to let himself go… well, as much as a male such as Rowan Whitethorn could let himself go. 

Aelin pushed herself off the forest floor, planting her hands firmly on her hips. “Get up. Training is done early today and we’re getting you some proper, princely clothing,”

Rowan got to his feet, standing close enough to her that Aelin had to tilt her head to look him in the eye. He raised a brow. “Since when were you in charge, princess?”

“Since tonight is my night,” Aelin said, poking the center of Rowan’s chest. “A night of fire for the firebringer. It’s poetic,”

“I suppose this entire week is for you then, considering your birthday is coming up,” 

“Oh, so you know my birthday?” Aelin said, crossing her arms over her chest. “I hope you’re already planning on buying me the most extravagant gift imaginable,”

Rowan flicked her nose and Aelin laughed. She grabbed Rowan’s sleeve and began tugging him towards Orynth. 

“Come on!”

And, surprisingly, the Fae prince followed. 

…

It was strange walking through the city with Rowan. They never really spent much time with one another outside of training, if any. Strolling down the streets with him, without punching or blades or magic was… different, but not unwelcome. 

She led him through the scenic route, showing him the parts of the city that she loved. Restaurants that she frequented, bakeries and confectionaries.

“He makes the most delightful hazelnut truffles,” Aelin said, pointing to a small shop. “But, he only makes them for Yulemas so I always buy in bulk,”

Rowan had seemed amused at her eating habits, but didn’t poke fun. 

People gawked at the Fae Prince, taking the attention off of Aelin for once. She didn’t fail to notice how the eyes of the women lingered on his opposing form, but they would quickly avert their gazes when they either recognized their princess glaring at them, or the fact that she had a vicious snarl on her face. She didn’t know what had come over her, why she wanted to claw off their faces for looking at Rowan with interest. She chocked it up to the newly found bond, that it was tugging on that primal, Fae part of her. It was only normal that she would be slightly… territorial.

“Come on,” Aelin urged, herding Rowan towards her desired shop.

She had acquired a few of her favorite gowns from this tiny store. They always had the most beautiful fabrics and patterns, and the owner would hand-pick pieces she thought would suit the princess.

A small bell announced their arrival as they strolled into a shop. It was packed with fabric, every available inch stuffed with dresses or capes or coats. There was a spot in the back where bolts of fabric were displayed for purchase or if the owner wanted to craft a piece of her own. The sight of Rowan among the finery was almost comical. He didn’t seem to know what to do with himself, but Aelin spared him his pride and kept her judgements to herself. 

Aelin instantly began sifting through the racks of tunics, plucking out ones she thought would be appropriate. Rowan stood by her side, eyeing the growing pile of clothes draped over her arm. 

Aelin’s sensitive hearing picked up the sound of footfalls coming their direction. She glanced up and found Miss Odie, the owner of the shop, smiling. She was a slip of a woman, her dark hair now streaked with silver but she wore it well. She seemed surprised to see a hulking Fae warrior in her shop, but quickly shook herself out of it.

“Your highness,” the woman said, dipping into a curtsey. 

Aelin nodded in greeting. “Miss Odie, it’s wonderful to see you. How’s your wife?”

“She’s doing well, busy cooking up enough food for an army tonight for our families,” she said. “What can I help you with?”

The princess jerked her head towards Rowan. “We’re trying to find this one something nice to wear for the festivities tonight, though he loathes anything nice,”

She could practically feel Rowan cutting her a sharp look of reproach. 

“I see,” Miss Odie said, the corners of her eyes crinkling. “Well, allow me to place these in a fitting room for you,”

“Thank you very much,”

Rowan was still practically glaring at her as the woman shuffled off with an arm-full of clothes.

“You’re still picking out more? That was plenty,”

“We need options,” Aelin explained, examining a piece before letting it drop. “We must find the right style and the right fit, and, in case you haven’t noticed, you’re rather large. We may need to do some experimenting with sizing,”

Rowan didn’t say anything, but she could practically feel him seething as she chose at least five other pieces before she was satisfied, nodded towards the fitting room.

“I have endured many things in my life,” Rowan said, standing in the threshold of the adjacent room used to try on clothing. “But this may just be the worst,”

“So dramatic,” Aelin sighed. “The quicker you get started, the quicker it will be done,”

The Fae Prince narrowed his eyes at her.  _ You’ll pay for this.  _

_ I expect so. _

Rowan shut the door a bit harder than necessary. Aelin hoped he didn’t damage anything, she would make him fix it himself and apologize to Miss Odie sincerely if he did. 

But, for now, she would just enjoy watching Rowan squirm.

It was particularly entertaining to the princess. It seemed he absolutely despised trying on clothes, which made her wonder how he ever got any of his own. Perhaps his entire wardrobe consisted of pieces he found that just so happened to fit him, so he continued wearing them. It wouldn’t surprise Aelin if that were the case. 

Aelin tried her best not to laugh herself hoarse as Rowan came out and showed her the tunics. One of them was far too opulent, covered in beading and stitching that just look ridiculous on Rowan and did not match the murder in his eyes as she snickered. Another one was  _ far  _ too small, the clasps straining against his broad chest and the sleeves too short. He didn’t mind simple, black tunic, but Aelin wouldn’t have it.

“You’re not going to a funeral, Rowan,” she had said, making him go back in and try another on. 

Aelin herself had grown distracted in between waiting to see the pieces of Rowan and absentmindedly began shuffling through a rack of gowns. She heard the door creak open from behind her, signaling that Rowan was in the next tunic. 

She peeked over her shoulder, the corners of her lips turned up as she prepared for another failure, but faltered when she saw him. He stood before a mirror that stretched from the floor to the ceiling, looking at her expectantly for her opinion.

He wore a beautifully made tunic of deep green, stitched with silver detailing. It fit his broad shoulders perfectly, bringing out the color of his eyes. It was simple enough to appease Rowan’s tastes, while being well-made enough to be worn around the nobility at the celebrations tonight. Not only that, but he looked mighty handsome donning the colors of Terrasen, princely, even. 

She shook herself, hoping she hadn’t been staring long enough to be embarrassing.

“I like that one,” Aelin said, though it was an understatement. “What do you think?”

Rowan turned and glanced at himself in the looking glass, head tilted to the side. “I like it well enough,”

That was probably the highest form of a compliment she could get out of Rowan about a piece of clothing. 

Aelin squinted and stuck her tongue between her lips. “It’s almost perfect…” she said, marching up behind Rowan, taking some of the fabric at his side within her hands and pinching it tighter around his waist. It had been just slightly too big. There weren’t many people with proportions like Rowan. “There. Perfect,”

She caught Rowan’s eye in the mirror, hoping she didn’t flush at just how close they were standing to one another. With one small movement, she could have been holding him in her arms. 

“How is everything?” Miss Odie said, coming up beside the pair.

“I think we found one,” Aelin answered for the both of them, looking towards Rowan to see if he wanted to object, but he didn’t. “Would it be possible to take in the sides just a few inches?”

Miss Odie studied the tunic before nodding. “Of course. It won’t take long at all. Excellent eye, princess,”

Rowan changed out of the tunic and handed it to the seamstress before the pair took a seat on a small bench and waited for the changes to be made. 

“Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Aelin asked, peering up at Rowan. 

“It’s not something I would like to repeat within the next millennia,” he muttered. 

Aelin shook her head slightly at his dramatics. “Well, at least tonight will be fun,”

Rowan made a non-committal humming sound which prompted Aelin to nudge his shoulder with her own. 

“What? You did say that you found my friends entertaining. Just wait until they’re drunk, barely coherent, and trying not to light themselves on fire,” Aelin said. “Honestly, by the end of the night they're practically flammable,”

"Well, I can't miss that, can I?"

No more than half an hour later, Rowan's tunic was finished. Aelin had it added to her tab, much to the prince's chagrin.

"I do have my own money," he grumbled as they made their way back to the palace.

"I am aware of that," Aelin said curtly. "But, my uncle would have my head if I didn't show our guests true northern hospitality,"

Aelin filled the space between them with her voice as they continued down the neatly paved streets of Orynth. She would point out spots that had little stories attached to them.

"That's where Ren broke his nose when he walked into the wall, too distracted by the girl who works in the bakery,"

"Lysandra kneed some man in the balls when he wouldn't stop looking at her chest,"

"That's where I had my first kiss with a pretty city guard in training,"

Rowan listened to all her tales with amusement on his face. Part of her wanted to know about his childhood, hear the funny stories he must have. She wanted to see what it was like for him in his childhood, but that would involve traveling across the sea to Doranelle, to the lands of Maeve. She couldn't do that, not when her parents had struggled to keep her away from the ancient Fae queen for all her life.

It was late afternoon by the time they arrived back to the fortress. Aelin knew she should have been in her rooms an hour ago to prepare for the evening. She was sure her ladies were scouring the palace for her already, probably cursing her for her tardiness. 

Rowan walked her to her suite, pausing before her door. 

“I’ll see you tonight,” Aelin stated, refusing to leave any room for question, lest Rowan take it as a sign to not show up.

But, he simply smiled and bowed his head. “I’ll see you then, Aelin,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another quick little chapter leading up to Beltane! Got this one out quick again because of all the wonderful comments on the last chapter! It was the most comments ive ever received on a chapter before which yall have no idea how much I needed! The morning after I had posted the last chapter, I was scrolling through tumblr and I saw that someone mentioned my story to a blog whose writing I really like and whose opinion I respect and I got super excited because 'omg that's my story!!'... and she vehemently dislikes it... so that shit hurted lol. If yall know who im talking about, (I wouldn't be surprised because the fandoms not huge) I just want to make sure we're all on the same page that im NOT angry at her! She didn't actively seek me out to send hate or anything and probably just didn't know I followed her bc my users are different and I don't post any content on tumblr! i still really like her and her account!!! this was just a long way of saying thank you for the comments last chapter, they really meant a lot!!!  
> But, whatever! I hope you guys like this chapter! I got some good stuff coming up in the future!!!


	19. Chapter 19

The sun had dipped below the horizon, setting the sky alight in bright red, oranges, and yellows, the perfect sky for the night of fire. 

Orynth was noisy for the holiday. Rowan could hear voices out his window, children laughing and squealing, people planning and decorating. There was a steady stream of people wandering past his door on their way to the festivities already. He supposed he should be following them.

Rowan quickly worked the clasps of his new tunic. It had been a long while since it was necessary for him to wear something of fine make. It must have been well over two decades, probably at one of his cousin’s weddings, but he really couldn’t be bothered to remember at this moment.

At least the princess had fine enough tastes. Perhaps if she had been another princess in another land, she would have decked him out in the most opulent, extravagant, over the top piece she could find, but Aelin understood him well-enough that she would never make him do such a thing.

It was… strange to spend time with the princess outside of training. Their interaction were normally dispersed with flames and ice and steel. Their time together this afternoon had been a change of pace, but, he supposed it was… nice. Aelin had been good company. She had been animated as she guided him around her city. Rowan could tell she truly loved Terrasen, loved her people. She knew the names of her subjects, knew about their lives. They adored her just as well. As much as Aelin feared it, she would make a remarkable queen some day, would make her people and her kingdom proud. She was an exceptional woman, truly. Intelligent and fierce and bold… when the time came for her to take the throne, Rowan knew she would thrive and make her parents proud, no matter how worried she was now. 

She had become a friend of Rowan’s, as strange as it was to admit. They trusted one another, could be vulnerable without fear. Letting one another into their magic… well, that was about as much as a person could trust another. One thought from Aelin could have shattered Rowan’s mind, but he didn’t hesitate to join hands with her. He had nothing to fear from her.

And Aelin… she had said she trusted him as well, with her  _ life.  _ She had told him she would sail across the sea to help him if needed. He didn’t have time to think about the implications of her words, though he knew she had been sincere. For now, he had to leave before he was late.

Rowan slid one final dagger into his boot, mostly out of habit more than out of fear of being attacked, before finally venturing out of his rooms. He followed the sounds of talking and laughter as they led through the halls to the front gates. The bonfires were set up just outside the towering doors of Orynth, alongside what Rowan was sure were tables upon tables laden with food and drink. 

The Fae prince didn’t make it very far on his journey before he was interrupted.

“Rowan!”

He instantly recognized Aelin’s voice coming from behind him. He turned towards her as her footsteps drew nearer, and he felt his breath catch ever so slightly in his throat at the sight.

She looked stunning.

Aelin had changed out of her training leathers into a beautiful, red silk gown. The front drooped down low enough to offer a glimpse at the curves of her breasts. Thin straps draped over her shoulders, holding up the low back of the gown. As she continued to stride closer, Rowan saw the nearly too high slit up her leg. Her arms were covered in golden cuffs and bracelets, fingers glimmering with rubies to match the shade of her gown. She wore a simple circlet on her brow, as if anyone would need reminding of who she was. With the bright crimson of her gown, her glimmering jewelry, golden hair, and tanned skin, she looked like living flame. And, when she got close enough that Rowan could see the wicked little smirk on her lips, he knew she was nothing other than hellfire incarnate. 

“Why, don’t you look ever so charming in that tunic!” she cooed. “Whoever picked it out must have wonderful taste,”

Rowan stopped himself before he could roll his eyes. “You clean up rather nicely too,” An understatement, truly.

Aelin slapped a hand over her heart in mock-offence. “Rowan, I  _ always  _ look beautiful! Whether I’m in training tunics or ball gowns,”

“Not to mention humble,”

“I am the most humble person in all of Terrasen!”

Rowan snorted softly at the princess, who seemed infinitely amused at her own jokes. Of course she was.

“Well, I think we better be on our way,” Rowan said, holding out an arm for Aelin to take.

She blinked once before her eyes jumped to his. Shocked, but delighted at the gesture, a huge grin splitting her face as she took his arm.

“How princely of you!” Aelin said gleefully, bright eyes on his own.

“I  _ did  _ have court training, you know,”

“Hm. Sometimes it hard to tell,”

“Look who’s talking,” Rowan said, raising a brow at her attire. It was nearly too scandalous, probably the most risque piece he had ever seen a princess don. “I don’t know how you got away with wearing that,”

Her lips twisted into a smirk. “I would just love to see a man get between me and what I want to do,”

Rowan assumed it would end up being quite the show.

They soon stepped into the night air. The smell from the pine trees mingled with the sweet, thick smell of  the smoke from the hundreds of crackling bonfires that dotted the landscape. Shadows leapt over flames, cries of laughter and caution riding on the winds. There were people everywhere, nobility from near and far. Lords, ladies, dukes and duchesses strolled over the grass, sipping at sweet, spring wine and gossiping amongst themselves. When they saw their princess walking by, they would stop and bow, murmuring greetings to their future queen.

Rowan couldn’t help but notice how many male eyes lingered on Aelin, in ways that were far from subtle. Rowan could read every vile thought that went through their heads. That is, until they caught sight of him beside the princess, with nothing but pure violence in his eyes. They averted their gazes quickly then, faces losing a significant amount of color in the process. 

The more logical part of Rowan told him that he had no right to be scaring away potential suitors, but that more innate, primal, purely  _ Fae  _ part of him still made him do it. He had known the princess for a long while now, it was only natural that he would be… protective, he supposed. 

Rowan spotted Aelin's friends congregated at the end of one on the long buffet tables. Lysandra was making a plate for Evangeline, who was admiring Elide's dress. Aedion, Ren, and Fenrys were passing around goblets of wine.

"What the rutting hell are you wearing?" Aedion demanded upon seeing his little cousin.

"A dress," Aelin said simply.

"It looks like half of a dress," Aedion said, raising a judging brow.

The princess dropped Rowan's arm as she accepted the wine handed to her by Ren, who also handed one to him.

"Mind your business, Aedion," Aelin snapped.

Evangeline bounded towards the princess, her yellow dress bouncing with her. Aelin beamed down at the girl, snatching up something from the table and squatting down beside her. The princess presented the girl a plate of chocolates.

Lysandra frowned. “She’s had plenty already,”

Aelin shrugged. “She can eat Rowan’s share. He doesn’t eat sweets,”

The girl’s head whipped towards him, blue eyes wide in shock. Rowan noted the deep scars on her round cheeks. They were even and straight, decorating both sides of her face. They were too measured out to be made out of fury or in a fight. Would it be some form of cruelty?

He felt Aelin’s eyes on him. She probably noticed his eyes, probably read every thought that went through his head. She patted the girl’s back and sent her on her way with her treats. 

Aelin came to his side, close enough that her shoulder brushed his. 

“It’s not what you think,” she murmured into her wine glass, in an attempt to be discrete. “What happened to her… it wasn’t malicious, it was to protect her,”

Rowan raised a brow, a sign for her to continue.

“Evangeline was brought into the brothel that Lys was a part of,” Aelin began. “She was given to Lysandra for training… but, she gave Evangeline a choice. She knew that if she marred her, took away the beauty that the brothel coveted, she would be useless. Evangeline wouldn’t become a courtesan. So, Lysandra-”

“Gave her those scars,” Rowan finished for her, putting the pieces together. 

Aelin nodded. “Lysandra was punished greatly for it, beaten and debt added, but she took it all, for Evangeline,”

Rowan looked up towards the shifter, saw her dancing with the girl. Lysandra had been through much, but she would fight for those who she loved, every time, without fail. Aelin was lucky to have her.

“She’s a good woman,” Rowan said.

There was fondness on her face as she watched her friend and nodded. Aedion hefted the girl onto his shoulders, Evangeline releasing a squeal of laughter as he spun and danced around. Lysandra had a huge grin on her face as she watched them. It was amazing that she could still smile like that after all she went through. 

Aelin rose her glass to his. “Come now. Let’s have fun,”

Rowan brought his glass to hers, and was almost blinded by her dazzling smile.

…

The night wore on, filled with drinks and laughs. Rowan was more social than he had been in a long time, speaking to Aelin’s friends, soldiers and generals. They were all curious about him, never having the chance to speak to him before. Rowan was always either with Aelin or sequestered in his own rooms. They took this chance to wring every piece of information out of him that they could. 

Sometime in the night, Aelin must have noticed that he was getting tired of a particular conversation with an older general who only seemed interested in Fae females. She had breezed up to him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Rowan, come with me to leave gifts for the Little Folk,” 

Rowan gladly excused himself as the princess grabbed onto his arm.

“Oh, he’s just awful,” Aelin whispered. “He has the nerve to look at every female in the fortress, though he’s married, but only has eyes for women his daughter’s age,”

Rowan’s lips curled up in distaste, but the princess seemed hardly bothered. She was practically glowing with life, cheeks flushed from the dancing or the wine.

They made plates of fresh fruits, Aelin grabbing flowers and ivy from the centerpieces and twisting them into little chains. She sacrificed a shining ring or two while Rowan conjured a little stag of hard ice, placing it beside Aelin’s gifts. 

“I feel like I should give them more,” Aelin said, cocking her head to the side. “They’ve been leaving me little gifts since I could remember,” 

Rowan could see their eyes glimmering in the dark between the gaps in the bushes. 

“They seem to like you,” Rowan pointed out.

Aelin tossed her golden hair over her shoulder. “Who doesn’t?”

The fires continued to burn bright throughout the night. Rowan ate and drank his fill, speaking with Aedion and Ren and Fenrys. He found that he enjoyed himself immensely among these people, in this place. Terrasen was so different than Doranelle, from all the other kingdoms and empires he had traveled to. 

Music floated in the smoky, night air. People cast long shadows as they leapt over flames if they dared, shrieking and cackling with glee and adrenaline. Aelin had been right about her friends, who soon tried to see who could jump over the highest flames. The princess herself stood off to the side, tending the fires herself to ensure the sizing was right, tossing her head back and laughing every time she would send a lick of flame snapping towards their feet. Ren let out a shrill squeal when she did it to him. 

Rowan tried to focus in on the conversations he was involved in, but continuously found himself distracted throughout the night. He would be listening to a soldier speak to him when he would catch a glimpse of the princess out the corner of his eye. She would be running past, skirts bunched in her hands, embers trailing after her. Her feet were now bare as she streaked over the grass. He wondered what others would think of the crown princess of Terrasen running around without shoes. She leapt over fires without fear of the flame, a streak of red in the night. 

He couldn’t take his eyes off the princess all throughout the night. Whenever she was in the range of his sight, his eyes were on her. When she chatted with lords and ladies, or sampled the fresh, spring berries.

And then, there was the dancing.

She was almost non-stop with it. Aelin was a skilled dancer. He watched her as she did what Rowan assumed to be traditional dances of Terrasen. The music was bright and bouncing, Aelin spinning and twirling through partners before dancing with the fiddler player himself, who seemed delighted that the princess had taken an interest in him. 

She danced with Ren and Aedion and little Evangeline, who she delighted by conjuring shapes of her flames as they moved. Little birds or butterflies that fluttered around the child’s golden-red head, but never burned. 

It was nice to see her so light and carefree. There was a smile on her face instead of a snarl, body loose and not tightened, ready for a fight. 

The stars soon took over the sky. Lysandra herded Evangeline off to bed, who protested that she wasn’t tired although her head was drooping and she could hardly keep her eyes open.

Once the children had been ushered to bed, the atmosphere shifted. The music changed from the bright, bubbly chords of the traditional songs to something different, slower and ethereal. Rowan swore he could recognize some of the harmonies from the music of the Fae, but he wouldn't be surprised if it was. Terrasen had always had stronger ties with the Fae than any of the other mortal kingdoms on the continent. People danced closer together, hips against hips, taking their time to enjoy the movement and the music.

But the princess danced alone.

Not that she seemed to mind. She danced as if she were the only person there, head thrown back, willowy arms swaying with the fluttering of the pan flute, eyes shut. The music seemed to possess her, fill her, as she moved as if she were in a trance. Rowan's intent eyes watched every move she made, every shift of her feet or the sway of her hips. He could see why so many males were enamored with her, with her wild beauty and fierceness. It was enthralling.

Rowan could have swore that the flames danced with the princess, swaying as she did with every flick of her wrist or roll of her body. 

Aelin’s eyes finally cracked open. Her irises seemed to glow with animal brightness as her gaze found his through the throes of people and pillars of fire. She stopped dancing and stood up straighter, head tilted to the side as she studied him. Rowan felt a tug in his chest, as though her magic was calling to his, beckoning him closer. Aelin took a deep breath, looking as though she may take a step forward, may walk up to him and ask to dance, but she was intercepted before she could make the first movement. 

Fenrys jumped before the princess, grabbing her hands and spinning her back into a dance. Rowan saw the wide grin on her face as she threw her head back in laughter and joy. He forced himself to focus back on his conversation, to be polite and as sociable as he could. 

Another hour passed and Rowan was ready to retire to his rooms.

He had enjoyed the night, he would admit, but he would have to awaken early tomorrow for training. 

Rowan glanced around, looking to catch of glimpse of Aelin’s golden hair to say goodnight, but he couldn’t seem to locate her. Well enough, as she would probably find a way to coerce him into staying out longer. He said his farewells to Aelin’s court, who were well beyond drunk at this point. He assumed they would be rather miserable in the morning. 

Rowan escaped the noise of the celebrations, following the path back to his rooms. The halls of Orynth were quiet by this time. He would hear the occasional whisper or drunken giggle, but nothing more.

He was nearly to his quarters when he spotted something that made him wonder which of the gods enjoyed tormenting him for their own pleasure. He couldn’t seem to escape them, no matter where he went or how he tried to avoid it.

Rowan paused at the turn of the hall when he spotted Aelin and Fenrys outside her doors. The princess was draped against the wall, Fenrys pressing into her front, one hand cradling her cheek and the other clenching her hip and pulling them towards his. Their lips moved against one another’s languidly for a few moments before Fenrys’ hand crept up, slipping the strap of silk down her shoulder. Aelin pulled back enough to send him a midnight smile before grabbing his hand and slipping into her chambers, firmly shutting the doors behind them.

Rowan sighed and dragged a hand down his face, once again trying to forget the image that seemed to be burned into his eyes. Yes, he was aware that they were involved with one another, but he simply didn’t know why it had to be him who had to continuously witness it. Rowan shook himself. He just needed to go to sleep.

Then, he would find solace.

…

_ The female beneath Rowan released a sharp gasp of pleasure as he thrust into her. He felt hands clawing at his shoulders, the nails raking down his shoulders hard enough to draw blood. His nose was buried into the junction between her shoulder and her neck, teeth nipping at the sensitive flesh there.  _

_ Rowan couldn’t think any further than their joining, of her hips pressed against his, legs locked around his waist, couldn’t remember any other scent than hers, no other taste than her lips. His hand crept from her waist, to her hip, to her thigh, gripping the soft flesh there tightly, angling them different as he began to pick up the pace. Her breath caught in her throat at the sudden change, releasing a deep moan that nearly had Rowan snarling in satisfaction.  _

_ Her sighs and gasps and pleads only increased in frequency and volume as they neared their peak. Rowan’s lips traveled up her neck, her jaw, before they found their way back to her mouth, kissing her deeply and swallowing the wonderful sounds she was making. _

_ She was close. Rowan had just enough mind to lean back, to watch her face as she shattered, but as he did, he saw who he pinned to the bed. _

_ Turquoise eyes met his, brows furrowed and lips parted in pleasure. Her golden hair was fanned out on the pillows, messy from their bouts. Her fingers crept to the back of his head, tangling into the short hair there before Aelin Ashryver Galathynius threw her head back, exposing her throat, and moaned out one thing. _

_ “Rowan!” _

…

The Fae Prince awoke with a start, sitting bolt upright in his bed as he separated dream from reality. He was currently in his chambers, completely alone. His sheets and blankets were a mess, bare chest slicked with sweat as he hunched over and dug the heels of his palms into his eyes. It had been a dream, just a dream.

It must have been fueled from the long night and the  _ carranam  _ bond. He had never thought of her in that extent, no. Yes she was a beautiful female but… she was Aelin. He couldn’t- he could never…

Before he let himself give what his mind conjured up in the night any more thought, Rowan stood swiftly, tossing the blankets to the side and marching to the bathroom. He drew a bucket of cold water before climbing into the bathtub and dumping it over his head. The shockingly cold temperature did wonders in clearing his head, in chasing away any phantom traces of her hands or lips or-

Rowan groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. He wasn’t going to get any more sleep tonight. 

…

_ Aelin was pinned between a hard body and soft sheets, legs locked around his hips as he thrust into her. She had never felt anything like it, from the very first stroke. She tried to keep herself grounded within the euphoria she was experiencing, pressing her forehead against a strong shoulder as he moved within her.  _

_ Aelin couldn’t hold back the gasps and the whimpers even if she wanted to, not with his hips pressed against hers, mouth on her neck. His hands gripped her hips firmly, and she never wanted him to let go.  _

_ He began to move faster, deeper as he continued to ravish her. His mouth slanted against her own, tongue slipping into her mouth. She nipped at his bottom lip and felt his answering growl reverberate through her very core.  _

_ Through the pleasure, she managed to open her eyes, and met ones of deep green, with silver hair flashing in the dim light. She looked into the face of Rowan Whitethorn as she shattered around him. _

…

Aelin’s eyes flew open with a sharp intake of breath. Her body was bare and coated with a thin layer of sweat, and there was another warm body beside her, a strong arm thrown over her hip and oh gods, did she really-?

No. Aelin let out a sigh of relief. It was Fenrys who was beside her, no one else, especially not a certain silver-haired prince who was sleeping soundly down the hall, blissfully unaware of whatever sinful thoughts someone decided to put in her head about him.

She didn’t know where that came from. Sure, he had looked mighty handsome at the festivities tonight, but it was  _ Rowan.  _ She didn’t see him like that, and he sure as hell would never see her in that light either. Besides-

“Good dream?” Fenrys' deep voice rumbled from the dark. She could feel his nose skimming over her shoulder, probably scenting her desire. Little did he know who had caused her body to react in that way…

Aelin turned over in his arms, digging her fingers into his golden curls. She didn’t bother answering his question before dragging his lips down to hers, pressing her bare body against his own. Fenrys didn’t need any more encouragement before rolling on top of her, hands trailing down her legs as he positioned himself between them. Aelin prayed she would forget the lingering feeling of Rowan’s body against her own when she lost herself in the sensation of Fenrys’ steady weight instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point, im looking at my nearly 300 page, 100k+ word fanfic, and realizing that its become novel length. I never really thought I would have the patience to write a novel but if I can write this much...?  
> Anyway, I hope you guys liked the chapter! I had a lot of fun writing these scenes and I have some more cute Rowaelin stuff coming up! And don't worry yall, I'm not over working myself to get these written! I love love love writing this story and its just a good way to wind down before going to sleep:)  
> Yall keep on surprising me because now the last chapter has the most comments ive received! also, we hit 5000 views! again, thank you all so much for the support and enjoy!! lmk what you think!!


	20. Chapter 20

Fenrys knew something was… different the next day.

When he finally deigned to stroll into Aelin’s training, his skin practically prickled with the tension he could sense in the air. He couldn’t name was it was, or what had caused it, but it was there. Still, it didn’t seem like the princess or Whitethorn were keen to point it out. They could barely meet one another’s eyes, spoke in clipped sentences, stood a healthy distance away from one another.

Had something happened that Fenrys just wasn’t savvy to? He couldn’t imagine what. They had seemed just fine the night before but now…

He asked Aelin if something was wrong, but she brushed off his concern, insisting that she was fine. He knew better than to ask Rowan about his feelings, lest he get his limbs torn off. 

So, Fenrys didn’t say anything, simply watching them skitter around one another. Whatever was going on, clearly it was none of his business.

…

Aelin wondered how long she would feel awkward around Rowan. She had never felt like this before, especially with him. They had always been comfortable around one another, which perhaps was a factor in the… detailed dreams she had experienced two nights ago. 

She hoped he would think her pink cheeks were from the exercise and not from being as flustered as she was. She hadn't been able to look him in the face long enough to read any emotions there. She could barely look into his eyes without remembering how they bored into hers, couldn’t get close enough to feel his breath across her face without it reminding her of her dreams, could barely get through him helping her adjust her stance without comparing the feeling of his hands to how they felt when they held her hips into place. 

She was thankful, at least, that Rowan hadn’t made a comment about her behavior. 

They were taking a small break, Aelin slouched over on a tree stump as she gulped down a few mouthfuls of bitingly cold water. Rowan, to her right, was cleaning his blades while Fenrys, to her left, was munching ridiculously loud on an apple. She felt eyes burning into her, turning to see Fenrys watching her with lowered brows.

Aelin raised an expectant brow. "What?"

"Your posture is atrocious," he commented.

Aelin made a face. "Really? You're making comments on my posture while your manners are equally terrible?"

"I'm a soldier,"

"You're a lord!" Aelin exclaimed, springing to her feet. She motioned to Rowan. "And he's a prince! Whoever taught your court lessons must be rolling in their graves,"

"Actually, he's still alive," Rowan commented, crossing his arms over his chest. "and torturing another generation of younglings,"

Aelin pursed her lips. She had forgotten about their long lives. She straightened, holding herself the way she did during important court manners, the way a princess should hold herself.

Aelin opened her mouth and began to speak with a ridiculous tone, waving her hands through the air dramatically. "My mistake! I meant not to offend Prince Rowan Whitethorn of Doranelle and Lord Fenrys…” the princess trailed off, head tilted to the side. “You know, Fenrys, I don’t actually know your family name,”

The golden-haired Fae didn’t miss a beat before muttering around a mouthful of fruit, “Moonbeam,”

Aelin blinked once before studying his handsome face for any sign of dishonesty, but found none. She unleashed a rather unprincess like snort. “It is not,”

“Why would I lie?”

Aelin then released a full on cackle, probably sounding mad, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care. “Moonbeam! Honestly, what a name!”

Her amusement made her forget her awkwardness for the time being.

…

Aelin wouldn’t focus. No matter how many times Rowan growled at her to pay attention, she would simply end up laughing loudly when she glanced at Fenrys. To his credit, the younger Fae warrior took her giggles well, not letting it damage his pride. It did, however, piss Rowan off since she seemed hell-bent on ignoring every bit of advice he tried to give her.

He supposed feeling angry was better than feeling uncomfortable. He could hardly look her in the eye, which made teaching rather difficult. Rowan couldn’t step too close to her, lest he caught a whiff of her scent and was reminded of the dream from a few nights ago. It was improper of him. 

However, as Aelin continued to howl in laughter rather than focus on her swordsmanship, Rowan forgot all of his previous thoughts and had no problem meeting her eyes and narrowing his own at her.

“If you keep laughing, I’m going to throw you in the pond,” he threatened.

Aelin made a face as if to say,  _ Sure you will. _ She somehow managed to work sarcasm into her tone even when she didn’t utter a word, but she sure as hell continued to snicker loudly.

“Fine,” Rowan ground out through clenched teeth before moving swiftly. Before Aelin even had a chance to gasp, he had tossed her over his shoulder, marched her to the edge of the glimmering pool, and unceremoniously dumped her into the clear waters with a loud splash.

Her golden head bobbed up on the surface a heartbeat later, hair plastered against her face and drooping into her eyes, not that she seemed to mind as she beamed. She yanked her sopping hair from her face and looked up at the two Fae warriors standing before her, one smug, one concerned.

“Moonbeam,” Aelin whispered one last time, paddling over to the edge of the pool and resting her forearms on the sun-warmed stone. She looked up to Rowan. “You must admit it’s a bit different,”

Rowan studied the girl, the brightness of her eyes, the curl to her lips. She seemed happy, content, unaffected by the worried that had been flashing through Rowan’s head for the past two days. For her sake, he supposed, he could try his best to act normal, like nothing had transpired while he slept. If only for the way she was smiling at him.

…

The next day, Rowan wasn't at his normal spot outside the gates. That in itself worried Aelin. He hadn't ever missed a day in their years of training. 

She asked around, pulling aside a servant boy and asking if he happened to know where the Fae prince was. The boy managed to sputter out something about seeing him heading for the stables before he scurried off down the hall.

Aelin frowned. The stables? What would he be doing there? Nevertheless, she headed in the direction of the stables to see if the boy's information had been correct. Surprisingly, it was. Aelin spotted Rowan's broad shoulders as he stood beside a chestnut mare, arms crossed as he spoke to Fenrys, who was adjusting the saddle. The golden-haired warrior was dressed for travel, satchel tossed over his shoulders. He was engrossed in conversation with Rowan, face grave as they spoke. Neither of them noted her presence behind them until she opened her mouth.

"What's this?" Aelin asked, brows furrowing though she knew what was happening, deep in her gut.

Two sets of eyes landed on her, neither of them holding any joy in them. Aelin looked to Rowan first, but his eyes skipped down to the ground. She turned to Fenrys, whose lips tightened. 

"We received a letter this morning," Fenrys said, taking a step forward. "Maeve summons me back to Doranelle. Immediately,"

"What? Why?"

"She didn't say,"

"So… you're leaving?" Aelin asked. "Now?"

There was defeat in Fenrys' eyes. "I must,"

Aelin's chest constricted as she looked at him, at this male who had become her friend. She wasn't ready for this unexpected news, wasn't ready for him to leave but… she didn't have the privilege to be ready. Instead, she surged forward and threw her arms over his shoulders, forehead pressed against his chest as his own arms enveloped her tightly. 

She pulled back far enough to look at his face, at the sorrow shimmering in his eyes. 

"I'll miss you, Fenrys Moonbeam. I am very lucky to have met you,"

Fenrys managed a tiny smile, planting a chaste kiss to the crown of her head. "I'll miss you as well, Aelin Galathynius,"

…

Rowan watched the farewells silently, off to the side. It had been unexpected to receive a letter from their queen requesting Fenrys' return, but not a total surprise. It was like Maeve to be cruel like that, to give Fenrys that little taste of freedom he longed for before ripping it away just as quickly. 

He watched the small peck Fenrys planted on Aelin's forehead, watched the devastation light her face as they stepped away from each other, and he wondered if Fenrys, his companion over many years, had managed to ensnare the firebringer's heart.

Fenrys looked away from Aelin towards him, lips pressed together tightly as he gave a curt nod, which was as much as a farewell they would exchange with each other. Aelin peeled away to his side as Fenrys mounted his steed.

"Travel swiftly," Rowan said as both a blessing and a warning. Maeve didn't like to be kept waiting.

"I'll see you next spring," Fenrys said before snapping the reins, sending his mare careening away down the dirt path into the gloom of the Oakwald.

Rowan was acutely aware of Aelin's silent presence standing beside him. He dared a glance in her direction, finding her brows knitted and lips pursed.

"She doesn't deserve him," Aelin said at length. Rowan didn't need context to know she meant Maeve. She turned those pitying eyes to him. "She doesn't deserve either of you,"

Rowan sharply looked away, searching for the words to say. It was an honor to serve Maeve, he had been told that since even before he swore the blood oath. Rowan turned towards Aelin to tell her as such, but his hesitation cost him. She was already gone.

…

Aelin was in a deep, dreamless sleep, the kind that she loved and craved. She was practically invisible under the mountains of blankets and pillows she had on her bed.

Her mouth was open and she was snoring softly, a habit she would vehemently deny should anyone bring it up. She was content to lay there until duty forced her awake, but her rest was interrupted by the sound of her door slamming open.

Aelin was sitting bolt upright in a heartbeat, blade in her hand, ready for a threat, but only found a small crowd of her friends lingering in her doorway. Aedion snatched the blade out of her hand, allowing Evangeline to crawl up on her bed and throw her arms around her.

"Happy birthday, Aelin!"

The princess' brain was still a bit muddled from sleeping so deeply, so it took her a moment to respond. She soon enveloped the girl tightly in her arms.

"Thank you, Evie," Aelin cooed, kissing the top of her head. 

The girl kneeled before her, smiling broadly. "You're twenty now! So old,"

"You think twenty is old?" Aelin asked, pinching her sides. "Don't tell Rowan that, he may get offended,"

The girl giggled and planted herself beside Aelin as Aedion came over and placed a tray laden with pastries and berries on her lap. He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"Happy birthday,"

Lys and Elide and Ren all took turns wishing her a happy birthday as she devoured her breakfast, allowing her friends to pick off her plate as well. They all sat around her room, keeping her company as she sipped on her tea.

"The palace is insane today," Elide reported. "Your uncle must really be making the ball tonight extravagant,"

"As if Aelin expects anything less," Ren teased.

Aelin narrowed her eyes at him over the rim of her cup.

"I'm sure there's going to be plenty of suitors," Lysandra said, waggling her brows.

"As Evangeline said, you're old now. I'm surprised you're not married off yet," Aedion taunted.

Aelin threw a berry at his forehead, hard enough that it left a little red splatter on his golden skin. He grabbed the offending fruit and popped it into his mouth. 

"It's not my fault that Orlon hasn't found some wealthy lord or foreign emperor to marry me off to yet," Aelin said testily. 

There had been murmurings here and there, rumors that said she was sure to get married to this lord or that prince, but none of them got further than baseline discussions. She knew marriage was within her near future, an idea she had gotten used to over the years. When it happened, she would be ready. She just hoped she would be wed to a good male, one she could call a friend, maybe even grow to love, if she were lucky.

She knew that if she fell in love, her uncle would have no qualms with allowing her to marry the male. Terrasen was strong enough, they would thrive with or without a marriage alliance. But, she had only been in love once, and he was gone now.

Aelin finished her breakfast, happily surrounded by the people she loved, before she had to shoo them away, promising she would see them at the ball later that night. For now, she needed to get prepared for training. She truly didn't want to get scolded by Rowan today.

She quickly dressed herself, slipping daggers into her boots and strapping one to her thigh. She plaited her hair back as she strode down the halls. Bustling and busy servants paused to wish her a happy birthday before scurrying off to help prepare for the ball that night. She grinned at all them, servants and lords alike, thanking them earnestly. 

She found Rowan lingering in normal spot. His eyes dragged to her as she planted her feet before him. He said nothing for a beat, simply raising a brow.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"Always," 

He jerked his head towards the Oakwald, a silent signal to start running. Aelin didn't need any more encouragement before tearing off into the forest.

She didn't know what she had expected from Rowan. Surely not an embrace or extravagant gifts, but he had mentioned her birthday earlier that week. He must know it was today. She supposed after three hundred years, birthdays were practically meaningless to him at this point. She didn't care. Besides, she loved running and training. 

Aelin lost herself in the rhythm of the running. The day was beautiful, the sun hot enough to remind the princess of summer fast approaching. Her forehead was dotted in sweat by the time they slowed down, Rowan bringing her to a spot they hadn’t been before. There was a lovely, clear pool being fed by a tiny stream.  She could hear the sound of the water tinkling into the pool, the breeze rustling the treetops, the birds crying in the distance. It was beautiful, but not really Rowan’s style when it came to training.

Aelin watched the Fae prince with narrowed eyes as she followed a step behind him. He came to the edge of the pool, lowering himself onto the cool grass and stretching his long legs before him, more casual than Aelin was used to seeing him. 

“What are you doing?” Aelin asked, peering down at him.

Rowan’s eyes dragged up to hers slowly. “Aren’t you going to sit?”

She hesitated a beat, wondering if he was perhaps trying to trick her, to turn this seemingly peaceful moment into a training exercise. Still, she sat down beside him, tilting her face up to the warm sun.

“So… is this it? What are we doing today?” Aelin queried. 

“Whatever you want,”

Aelin blinked. “What?”

A shrug. “It’s your birthday, princess. We can do whatever you want. We can train, we can sit here, we could go back to the palace. It’s your choice,”

Aelin pursed her lips. “Anything I want?”

Rowan had a look on his face that told her he may regret it, but he gave a stiff nod.

“Hmm,” Aelin mused, glancing around her. She nibbled on her bottom lip for a few moments, a crease forming between her brows. 

She could practically feel Rowan’s growing dread beside her.

…

Rowan waited with bated breath as Aelin thought beside him. He worried he may be giving her too much freedom, especially now that she had been thinking for so long. 

But, it was her birthday. Twenty years old now, barely a breath into Rowan’s life or even into her own if she Settled. Young, but grown at the same time. There was still that bright glimmer in her eyes that came with youth, but Rowan knew Aelin had her own responsibilities and she handled them with grace and intelligence. 

Finally, Aelin’s face lit up as she came to a decision. Rowan watched as her fingers deftly unlaced her boots before chucking them off to the side. She uncoiled to her feet, hands going to the front of her tunic as she quickly began unclasping it.

“ _ What  _ are you doing?” Rowan asked, trying not to seem shocked as she shucked off her shirt, tossing it after her boots. She stood there in her trousers, a soft white band across her breasts. 

“Well, you said I got to choose what we do today, and  _ I  _ want to go swimming,” she said, untying her hair and letting the braid fall loose. Without another word, she leapt into the crystal waters, sending a spray Rowan’s way.

Rowan swiped a hand down his face, wiping the water from his eyes as Aelin breached the surface. She slicked her hair back as his eyes landed on her, brow raised expectantly. 

“Well? Are you coming?” 

Rowan released a sigh and stood. He took off his vambraces and hidden weapons, piling them beside Aelin’s discarded clothes. He could practically feel her laughing at the amount of steel he carried on him. Rowan shrugged off his own gray tunic, feeling the sun’s rays beat down on his shoulders. He landed in the water nearly on top of the princess, simply to piss her off. Judging by her screech of anger brought on by the huge wave he sent cascading over her, he would say he succeeded. 

Rowan couldn’t remember the last time he had swam for amusement, jumping into a pool or lake for any other reason besides bathing while he was traveling. But, he was nice, he supposed. To enjoy the refreshingly cold waters of Terrasen, to take his time, to laugh at the anger on Aelin’s face as she glared at him.

“What? The princess of fire is afraid of a little water?” Rowan taunted.

Aelin growled before launching herself at him, hands digging into his shoulders as she forcibly dunked his head under the water. Rowan popped back up laughing, which seemed to anger the princess further as she began splashing him relentlessly. His hands shot out and caught Aelin around the waist. The princess barely had time to blurt out a filthy curse before throwing her across the pool. 

She landed with a resounding splash, sending sparkling droplets of water arching through the sunny sky. She broke through the surface with a shuddering gasp. 

“Rowan Whitethorn you are a right prick!” Aelin shouted.

“Can’t handle it?”

That seemed to be the thing to say if he wanted a full-out war. Next thing he knew, Aelin was trying to push his head under the water, he was doing the same to her. Waves crashed around them as they slapped the water at one another, laughter saturating the air. Rowan continued to toss Aelin away when she would get too close, and, try as she might to do the same to him, she never was able to succeed. 

Rowan held Aelin’s waist as he lifted her nearly completely out of the water, holding her above him. Water from her hair dripped onto his face as her turquoise eyes blazed into his. The sun was directly above her, creating a hazy halo of light around her golden hair. 

He knew that she could probably come pretty close to kicking his ass, but now wasn’t about techniques or maneuvers. They were having… fun. 

“Yield,” Rowan breathed. 

Aelin struggled against his grip for only a beat before craning her neck down, close enough so she could snarl in Rowan’s face. “Never,” 

Rowan dunked her once more. Body-slam was a better word for it, but Rowan wouldn’t deign to use a term more akin to a tavern brawler than a centuries-old Fae warrior. 

When they both popped up, Aelin was still in Rowan’s arms, but he no longer held her to throw her, but rather tenderly. Her hands were resting softly on his shoulders as their eyes cleared of water. They wore matching grins, excess water rolling down their bodies. 

She was stunning. There was no other way to describe it. The brightness in her eyes, how her smile made her nose crinkle, how the sun and deepened and added freckles to her cheeks. And, as Rowan held her, as he felt her hands brush down his bare arms, he felt something in his chest. A small tug.

He had grown fond of her, he realized. He liked the days he spent with her, both in training or out of it. He… wanted to spend time with her. 

That dazzling smile on her face faded softly. Her hands dropped from her arms to her side, moving away ever so slightly.

“I want to show you something,” Aelin murmured, pressing her lips together tightly, as if she were nervous, a look Rowan didn’t normally see on her face. “I know it’s not something that we’ve worked on, but I’ve been practicing and…” she cut herself off with a shake of her head. “Just- just watch,”

Rowan’s eyes narrowed as he watched Aelin hold up a hand, cupping her palm. Her brows were scrunched in concentration as the water before her wobbled, a shaky little sphere of water floating into hand. She smiled down at that little blob of water before she faced him again. And that joy on her face… it was one of the most beautiful things he had ever witnessed. 

“I’ve never really had much water affinity,” Aelin whispered, as if speaking too loud would disrupt the fragile globe in her hands. “Not enough to really bother to train with, but I got it from my mother. When she died, I always felt closer to her when I tried to use that part of my magic. So, I practiced and I know it’s not much but…”

“It’s beautiful, Aelin,” Rowan said. “Your mother would’ve loved to see this. I’m proud of you,”

The water dripping down her face now had nothing to do with the pool they were in. Rowan reached out, brushing a knuckle across her cheeks and wiping away the tears that dribbled from her eyes.

“Thank you, Rowan,” Aelin rasped out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter for yall! Little bit of fluff to make for the fact that Rowan and Aelin didn't dance last chapter! I promise you all there will be a dance scene in the future but this is the slowest burn I have ever written. At this point, I don't know if it even counts as burn. I feel like I dropped them in a crock pot and left them to cook all day while Im our running errands.  
> Anyway, let me know what yall think! im loving writing this story and loving hearing from yall!! <3


	21. Chapter 21

Aelin finally felt pruny enough to leave the cool water. Rowan gave her a hand up, and she promptly marched up to a large, sun-warmed rock to rest and to dry off. However, it seems there had already been someone, or something, there.

Aelin spied two crowns of thorns and flowers and ivy resting in the sunlight, waiting just for them. She looked into the underbrush, finding a few pairs of large eyes and spindly limbs in the shadows. The Little Folk had left her some gifts for her birthday. Aelin waved to them.

The princess plopped down, Rowan sprawling out on his side beside her as she inspected the make-shift crowns. One was made of ivy and pine-needles, bright and sharp. Another was made of spring ferns and red poppies. Aelin knew which crown was meant for who.

“For you, dear prince,” Aelin said, placing the crown of ivy on top of Rowan’s steadily drying silver hair. 

Aelin couldn’t help to think that the Fae warrior was mighty handsome, sitting in the sunlight, hair messy, the green of his crown matched the shade of his eyes perfectly. His face was softer, younger, the tattoo snaking down his left side less harsh. And he was looking at her like… 

Well, it wouldn’t do her any good to be thinking like that. 

But, she wouldn’t mind if he looked at her like that all the time. 

“And for you, princess,” Rowan said, picking up the accompanying crown.

Aelin leaned forward slightly, allowing Rowan to place the flower crown on her hair. 

“Don’t we look ever so regal?” Aelin said sarcastically, stretching out slowly and laying herself down on her back. She was sure they were quite a sight, half-dressed, dripping with water, and wearing crowns made by the Little Folk.

She felt Rowan lay down next to her, his shoulder against her own. 

“I’m assuming you will be locking yourself away in your rooms tonight during the ball?” Aelin asked, raising a sculpted brow.

A tiny wince. “Actually, your uncle mentioned my seating arrangements for the feast beforehand, so it would seem I will be attending,”

Delight spread through Aelin. “Truly? Well, two events within a week. That’s probably more than you’ve attended in the last millennia,”

Rowan flicked her nose in response. 

Aelin laughed and scrubbed at her face in response. “Well then, I suppose I’ll be seeing you later tonight,”

…

Aelin didn’t say much as her ladies arranged her hair for the night. She was already dressed, cosmetics applied as they gracefully twisted up her hair before laying one of her golden tiaras on her head. It was one of her nicer ones, reserved for special occasions. Yes, Aelin found the shine and glitter of the jewels beautiful, but part of her still wished she were wearing the flower crown she had on earlier. 

She was already in her gown, a beautiful chiffon piece of pale green, silver bands bunching the sleeves into thin straps on her shoulder, a matching belt cinching it around her waist. Modest, but light enough to keep her cool as spring melted into summer.

Aelin thoroughly thanked her ladies before standing. Aedion had been waiting patiently as they got her ready, stretched out in one of the plush armchairs snug in the corner of her room. 

“Finally,” he sighed, curling to his feet. 

“You can’t be sarcastic to me, it’s my birthday,” Aelin said. 

Aedion waved a hand through the air before holding out his arm for her to take. “Apologies. Now, let me escort you to the great hall before Orlon gets mad that we’re late!”

Aelin rolled her eyes but took her cousin’s arm nevertheless. The princess fixed her posture before they headed on their way.

She knew she would have to be on her best behavior tonight. The eyes of Terrasen as well as other territories and kingdoms would be on her, prospective suitors or trade partners who had been invited to the celebration tonight. She had worn her most comfortable shoes in preparation for dancing hundreds of dances to charm all those men in there. Aelin knew the power of a pretty girl offering an even prettier smile, a false blush, and shyly batting lashes. It was honestly too easy. 

Eventually, they paused before the massive double doors that led to the great hall, two, stoic, uniformed guards standing on either side.

“Ready?” Aedion asked, raising a brow.

A smirk. “Aren’t I always?”

The guards dragged open the heavy doors, allowing Aelin a glimpse into the great hall. It was stuffed with people dressed in all their finery, a steady murmur of voices filling the air as they conversated over drinks. That dull drone of voices ceased when they spotted their princess standing in the doorway. The sound of wood scraping against the floors as they all came to their feet in honor of their princess. 

They all bowed or curtsied, save for Orlon who had a smile and a glimmer of pride on his face from the head of the table. All it took was a dip of Aelin’s chin for her subjects and guests to straighten. 

Aedion led Aelin to her seat at the right of Orlon, the one next to it for her cousin. Her eyes landed on the male who she would be seated across from, a Fae Prince to be exact. No wonder why he couldn’t back out of this, Orlon had given him a seat of honor.

“Where the hell did Rowan get another nice tunic?” Aelin whispered to her cousin, eyeing the stormy grey tunic that he donned.

“He borrowed it from me,” Aedion mumbled back. “I guess he didn’t want to suffer through another one of your shopping trips,”

Aelin refrained from sticking her tongue out at him, knowing it was improper timing. 

The princess stopped before her uncle. He took her face in his hands and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Happy birthday, Aelin,” he said, dark eyes sparkling. 

“Thank you, uncle,”

She took her seat, skirts floating around her. Only once she was seated, did the rest of the gathered people follow suit. In a blink, a glass of wine was placed in her hand and the servants moved as one to begin bringing out the first course. 

Aelin glanced up at Rowan over her wine glass, eyeing his attire.

_ Nice tunic. New? _

His eyes narrowed slightly.  _ Smart ass.  _

_ I’ll try not to be offended that you didn’t want me to take you shopping again. _

The first course was placed before her, a tomato soup that was absolutely divine. In between spoonfuls, she chatted with a lord by her about increasing trade between Terrasen and Eyllwe, since he was so adamant on keeping it to a minimum because of the distance. She knew that with a few more glasses of wine down his throat combined with tossing in some more numbers and facts, she would have him on her side.

Her plate was cleared almost as soon as she was finished. She looked away from thanking the servant only to find Rowan looking at her, amusement written on his face.

Aelin’s brows shot up.  _ What? _

_ You’re good at this. Quite the little diplomat.  _

_ Don’t patronize me. I’m an amazing diplomat. _

…

Rowan could have watched Aelin talk circles around lords and courtiers and diplomats all night. It was highly entertaining. She was good at making them think that they had gotten the better end of the deal while she had really coerced them into exactly what she wanted in the first place.

But, the dance of politics on the stage of dining eventually came to an end after dessert plates had been cleared away. Then, the feast turned into a ball. Beautiful music filled the room, beautiful clothing and jewels shining in the torch-light. Rowan felt as though he were standing in a jewelry box.

Aelin looked lovely in that gown of hers, a softer kind of beauty than what she had worn to Beltane. She looked like the future queen that she was, all eyes on her as she strode into the middle of the room, the crowd of people parting for her as she shared the first dance with her uncle, and then one with her cousin before she was surrounded. Swarmed, Rowan thought was a better word for the sight of the wave of males asking for her to share a dance. 

Rowan couldn’t hear her, but Aelin’s mouth was moving the entire time. She was no doubt working them into her favor, no matter what. Charming and intelligent and witty, that was what she was, why she would be a great queen some day.

Rowan watched as a handsome young man, most likely a visiting lord or lord’s son, swept Aelin into the next dance. He was clearly holding her too close to be anything professional, hand riding awfully low on her back. When he spoke to her, he leaned into close enough that his lips brushed against the shell of her ear. Of course, Aelin was all smiles when he was looking at her, but Rowan managed to catch her gaze over his shoulder at one point when the man was murmuring against her skin and she rolled her eyes not so subtly. Rowan tried to keep himself from laughing as her face immediately flashed back into a bright smile when his eyes were on her again. 

Rowan studied each man who came to her more critically than he cared to admit. They all seemed like fine enough males, but Rowan wouldn’t know for sure by just watching them for a few minutes. 

He wondered if her feet were sore. She had been dancing for hours, only to have brief breaks to take a few sips of wine or water before she was twirled back into the throng of dancers. 

“These poor men can’t see the murder in her eyes,” Lysandra murmured to him, slipping silently to his side. “And the poor girl has to be pleasant all night long. At least I can grow fangs and snarl at them until they get the message,”

“Aelin has her own fangs too,” Rowan pointed out, picturing those elongated canines that she bared so often at him while they trained.

“Why do you think she’s in her mortal form tonight?”

“Isn’t she normally in her mortal form?” Rowan asked.

“She used to be,” Aedion put in, taking the spot beside Lysandra, watching his cousin. “But, recently, she’s been in her Fae form more often than not. The speed, the heightened senses… I think it makes her feel safer.”

He supposed it made sense, after her parents being killed, that she would do anything to keep her friends, family and herself safer, more secure. The benefits that came with her Fae body could easily mean the difference between life or death.

It was strange to think of death now, not when the room was so full of life.

Rowan made polite conversation throughout the night, trying to keep an eye on Aelin while he was at it, not that she needed him to, but he did so nonetheless. 

Sometime in the night, he heard a heavy breath as Aelin breezed up beside him, snatching the wine from his hand, and taking a huge chug of it. Rowan didn’t even bother protesting as she finished half of it.

“If I have to dance again, I think my feet may very well fall off,” she breathed, planting herself in front of him.

“You  _ are _ looking very sweaty,”

“What?” Aelin slapped a hand to her face in horror, searching for invisible sweat.

“I’m joking,”

Her eyes narrowed dangerously, jabbing a finger into his gut. “Prick! You’re a prick! It’s my rutting birthday and you treat me like-” she inhaled sharply, grabbing a fistfull of his tunic and dragging him nearly against her, forehead pressed against his shoulder. 

Rowan placed a hand on her shoulders, steadying both Aelin and himself. Her head was ducked low, hiding herself behind his frame. After a few heartbeats, she tentatively peeked over his shoulder. He felt her slump in relief against him.

“Thank you,” she sighed, patting his shoulder gently. “I know he was going to ask me to dance and I honestly couldn’t handle it, Rowan. I couldn’t.”

“I’m here to help, princess,”

"How valiant," she said. "Thank goodness I have a mighty Fae prince to guard me against villainy!"

"Is he that bad?"

Aelin shook her head. "No, he's harmless, just annoying. He's danced with me thrice tonight and spent the entire time not-so-subtly trying to convince me to spend the night with him in his bedchamber,"

If said male had seen Rowan now, he would have gone pale at the promise of violence in his eyes. But, when the princess saw the look that had caused full-grown males to piss themselves, she simply laughed.

"I know what you're thinking, but please don't kill him. It would be more trouble than it's worth," 

The night wore on. Aelin was twirled about the ballroom by countless suitors as the candles burned lower. Part of Rowan wondered if she was using her powers to make them burn faster, to perhaps speed up the process. However, eventually the ball came to an end. People began to filter out, bidding farewell to their princess, kissing her hand. 

Rowan himself went to retire to his rooms, tired of watching the males flounce around the princess. He wondered how they were all so dense. Her smile was clearly faked, though convincing. He did manage to be one of the last people there, lest Aelin make fun of him for escaping early. 

Rowan had been in his room barely long enough to shrug out of his tunic and scrub his face with cold water before there was a rapid knocking on the door. He was nearly annoyed, wondering what someone could possibly want from him at this hour. However, any semblance of that emotion disappeared when he saw Aelin standing outside his door, brow raised expectantly. She had changed out of her gown, hair falling freely down the back of her billowy, white shirt.

“Where did you go?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. Rowan noted the un-opened bottle of wine clutched in her fist.

“The ball ended,” Rowan said plainly. “The fun’s over,”

“Oh, please,” Aelin puffed. “The ball was all business. The party’s just starting. Put on a shirt and come with me,”

“Since when were you in charge?” 

“It’s still my birthday, you prick,” she said. “Shirt now! We’re getting drunk and doing gifts!”

Fine. She was right. Only because it was her birthday.

Rowan stepped aside to allow the princess into his rooms while he prepared himself. Part of him was screaming at just how improper it was to have Aelin unchaperoned in his chambers, but she was a grown woman and could make her own choices. Besides, the halls were empty.

He tried to ignore Aelin as she sent a sweeping gaze across his rooms. 

“Have you always kept your rooms this boring?” she drawled, plopping down on the edge of his bed.

“I don’t live here, Aelin,” Rowan pointed out as he shrugged into a more casual shirt.

“So you’re telling me that your residence is Doranelle is more vivacious?”

His silence told her all she needed to know.

Aelin laughed as he sat beside her to lace up his boots.

“Where do you live in Doranelle? You are a prince, I would expect you’re wealthy enough to own more than one property,” Aelin mused, yanking out the cork from the wine bottle and taking a hearty swing of it.

“I own a few properties,” Rowan explained, grabbing the wine from Aelin and drinking down a few gulps of his own. “However, Maeve has me traveling enough that I don’t make much use of any of them.”

“How dreadful,” 

Aelin stood, jerking her head towards the door. She said nothing else before stalking towards the halls, which meant she didn’t notice as Rowan snatched up a small box and casually slid it into his pocket.

…

“Where are we going?”

“Don’t you trust me?” 

Rowan’s silence didn’t do much to convince the princess.

“Honestly, Rowan,” Aelin said with a roll of her eyes. “It’s just a small get together with my friends. I don’t see why you seem so worried,”

Aelin led him down the halls, pushing open the doors into the parlor. It was a cozy little room, stuffed with plush armchairs, cushions, and pillows. There was a towering floor to ceiling window that gave a beautiful view of the Terrasen night. In the center of the room was a gleaming pianoforte. Aelin and her friends used this space for fun and privacy, to unwind after long days in a space away from prying eyes or gossips, from advisors or lords.

Her friends were already there, sprawled out on the couches and cushions on the floor. All eyes snapped to them as the heavy doors shut. 

Lysandra held out her hand to Aedion, who rolled his eyes and dug something out of his pockets before dropping a few gold pieces into Lysandra’s awaiting palm.

“I knew she could get him here,” the shifter said smugly. “She’s very convincing,”

“Not really,” Aedion shrugged.

“Aelin can convince you to do literally anything she wants,” Elide pointed out.

“No she can’t!”

“Yes I can,” the princess said, lowering herself onto a small couch, the Fae Prince taking the spot beside her. 

It was a tight fit, his thigh pressed against her own. She could feel the heat of his body, smell his pine and snow scent, even in her mortal form. She met his eye.

_ They didn’t think I would come? _ He seemed to say.

_ A few. They don’t see you often. _

_ I suppose training you takes up most of my time. It seems you’re very needy. _

Aelin’s lip curled, digging her knuckles into Rowan’s side, but he only laughed. 

Wine was poured and passed around, a small plate of snacks placed on a low table, even though they had enjoyed a feast earlier. All that dancing had made Aelin famished, and although she had stuffed herself thoroughly in the evening, she found herself picking at cheeses and breads as she told her friends about the night.

“It only took one dance to convince the Lord of Suria to increase their education opportunities. He seemed reluctant at first about the amount of schools I proposed they build, but when I told him we had the funds, he was all about it. Cheap bastard,”

“The silk merchant from Adarlan seemed mighty interested in you,” Ren muttered.

Aelin sneered. “He was interested in parts of me, for sure. He was  _ very  _ handsy. I had half a mind to burn him alive,”

“I’m sure that would be great for our alliance with Adarlan,” Elide said.

“As much as I  _ adore _ listening to all of this,” Lysandra said sarcastically. “I would rather do something else,” She reached off to the side and grabbed a small bag, grinning broadly as she passed it to her friend. “Happy birthday!”

Aelin recognized the design of the bag, from a little shop that she and Lysandra frequented that sold little lacy things, things that she sure as hell wouldn’t be flashing in front of the males seated around her. Still, that didn’t stop her from peeking into the bag, spotting gleaming, golden silk folded neatly. She couldn’t see the full design, but she knew Lysandra had impeccable taste.

“Thank you, Lys,”

“What is it?” Aedion asked, shifting and trying to catch a glimpse of what was inside the bag, but Aelin snapped it shut and held it to her chest.

“It’s not for you eyes, cousin,”

Judging by the look of disgust on his face, he knew all that he needed to. 

“Mine next!” Elide insisted, handing the princess a small box.

Aelin opened it to find a decorative bottle of rose scented perfume. It smelled absolutely divine, she couldn’t resist applying a few sprits to her neck and wrists, and one to Rowan’s face for good measure. He let out a vicious growl in response that she could see set her friends slightly on edge, not used to hearing it. Aelin, however, tended to piss him off every day. So, his snarl did nothing but make her laugh.

Her friends had commented about her strange dynamic with Rowan before. They didn’t know him like she did, only hearing about him in the stories the warriors and soldiers told or when Aelin had mentioned him in passing in the past… but that had been before he had returned. Their relationship had changed with every passing day, not to mention, they had discovered that their  _ carranam  _ bond. Aelin assumed she knew more about the Fae warrior than most, knew that he was capable of smiling and laughing and had a wicked sense of humor that he hadn’t seen for the first eight years of knowing him. 

Ren gave her his gift next, a pair of jeweled earrings that were beautiful enough that she knew he hadn’t picked it out himself, not that she minded. He knew that his tastes did not match her own, and had enough foresight to get some help to find her something she would actually use. 

“For you,” Aedion said, handing Aelin a stack of papers.

The princess inhaled sharply. “Is this the-?”

“Symphony we saw last spring,” her cousin finished.

Aelin sprung to her feet, rushing over to the pianoforte and spreading out the sheet music across the stand. She cracked her knuckles as her eyes greedily took in the music notes before she placed her hands over the cool keys. She took a deep breath before she began to play. 

The notes started out soft and melancholy, but began to build, slowly and steadily. The sound resonated in her chest as her fingers flew over the keys, filling every inch of the parlor. The music was familiar, beautifully and painfully so. It had been the last concert she had seen with her parents, only a few days before they had left on their ill-fated trip to Adarlan. As the notes built, she could remember her mother smiling at her, practically hear her father’s chuckle as she and Aedion had shoved at each other, trying to get to the best seats. 

Aelin lost herself in the music, forgetting where she was, who she was with. She didn’t feel her throat tighten, or her eyes burn as the symphony reached its climax and her chest tightened. It was like the room shattered as the music came down, her eyes shutting tightly as the tears trailed down her cheeks.

She drew out the last few notes as long as she could, hesitant for it to end, for the memory of her parents to fade, but it had to at some point. The last note fizzled into silence, smothering the room until Aelin released a shaking breath. 

She hadn’t noticed Aedion had crossed the room until he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. Aelin wiped under her eyes, sniffing once before placing her hand on top of her cousin’s, sending a grateful smile.

“Thank you, Aedion,”

Aelin stood and tightly embraced her cousin, long enough that the tears stopped and her cheeks were no longer splotchy. She pulled away far enough to look at his face, mirror to her own.

“I think I need some more wine,”

…

The room was filled with deep breathing and soft snores. It was late enough that Rowan knew he was going to have to call off training with the princess tomorrow, especially considering that he and Aelin were the last two awake. 

The others had put up a valiant effort. The night had been filled with drinking and laughter, with stories and teasing. Rowan did spend most of the night listening to the banter of Aelin’s fledgling court. The way they worked together… it was unlike anything he had ever seen, any court he had ever observed. There was a foundation of trust based on friendship, a quality that he didn’t see in most courts. It made them stronger, a tight-knit group that would always defend one another. Rowan knew there were talented people among those in the room, from the shifter to the Wolf of the North, but they were… more laid back than he was used to seeing. This court, it was nothing like Maeve’s, but it had the potential to be just as formidable.

It would be strange, he supposed, to return to Doranelle once the year was up. From the warmth and vivaciousness of Terrasen to the stoic and cold halls he had grown used to in the past centuries.

Rowan glanced at the others around the room. Elide was curled up on a small couch, a thick blanket tucked up to her chin that Aelin had draped over her when she saw the girl had fallen asleep. Ren was slouched in an armchair, head tilted back and mouth parted. He had just enough energy to loosen his boots before sleep had claimed him. Aedion and Lysandra were sprawled out on the ground, half under the pianoforte, the shifter’s head resting and the prince’s chest.

Rowan looked to his right, towards the princess who was looking fondly at her friends through heavily-lidded eyes, tired, but unwilling to let the night end just yet. She took a swing from the bottle of wine before handing it back to him. Her side was pressed against his, from her shoulder to her thigh, a thick fur blanket tossed over both their legs, though it really wasn’t that cold, especially with the fire Aelin had kept burning all throughout the night. 

Rowan and the princess had outlasted the others by an hour, simply murmuring quietly between themselves about everything, and nothing. 

“I didn’t know you played,” Rowan said, before clarifying. “The pianoforte,”

Aelin shrugged as if it were nothing. “When I can find the time. It’s more of a hobby, something to relax,”

“You’re very talented,” he said. “That song you played… it was beautiful,”

“Thank you,” Aelin whispered, fingers toying with the ends of her hair. “It was from the last symphony my parents took me to,”

Ah. That would explain the reaction. Rowan assumed it had some emotional connection, but he didn’t want to pry.  

“They would be very proud of you, Aelin,”

Her eyes were glimmering softly with tears she was unwilling to shed as she looked back to him. “Thank you, Rowan,” She took a deep, steadying breath before speaking again. “It’s a shame that Fenrys had to leave. I think he would have had fun,”

Rowan could hear the genuine sorrow in her voice. She truly did miss him.

Perhaps it was her reaction, perhaps it was the wine and the late night, but Rowan found himself asking, “Are you in love with him?”

Aelin’s head whipped towards him, sculpted brows knitting together. “What makes you ask that?”

“You were lovers,”

Understanding washed over her face as she nodded slowly. “Ah. I see. And I thought we were being so careful,” a tiny sigh, her eyes pointing towards the ceiling. “I am fond of Fenrys. He was my friend first and foremost, and he told me what Maeve… requires of him. I do care for him and his well-being, but no, Rowan. I’m not in love with him,”

Rowan didn’t know what possessed him, but he found himself asking, “Have you loved?”

She was young, and it was clear that she has had lovers in the past, but being in love… it was something different.

Aelin was silent for a beat, gazing at her hands folded in her lap. Her lips were pressed together tightly. Rowan began to believe he had crossed some boundary, opening his mouth to tell the princess to forget about his careless question, when she spoke.

“I was in love. Once,” she rasped, but didn’t seem keen to elaborate, but she didn’t need to.

There was pain on her face, in her eyes. Such pain and devastation that Rowan knew something had gone awry with this male, whoever he was. Had it been unrequited? Had he been unfaithful or left her? Had he been cruel? The thoughts infuriated him, the idea of any male hurting the princess in any way… but anger wouldn’t do either of them any good now.

Rowan let them sit in silence for a few more moments before reaching into his pocket and producing a long, flat box, holding it out towards the princess, who looked at it in confusion.

“Your gift,” Rowan explained as Aelin tentatively took it in her hands. 

She seemed shocked, brows shooting up her forehead. “Really? After three-hundred years I assumed birthdays lost all meaning to you,”

He nudged her shoulder with his own in response, making her chuckle softly as she looked down at the box in her hand. She blinked once in realization and then surprise before her gaze snapped back towards him.

“Are- are these…?”

“Those hazelnut truffles you’re so fond of, from that confectionary you pointed out when we went into the city.” Rowan finished for her.

Aelin’s lips were parted. “But he only makes them for Yulemas!”

“I convinced him to make an exception,”

She let out a short laugh, pulling off the top of the box to reveal rows of perfectly made chocolate. She picked one up and popped it into her mouth, expression melting into euphoria as she chewed. She let out a tiny groan, the sound far too sinful for chocolate. Her tongue shot out and licked her lips, and Rowan was glad her eyes were shut so she couldn’t witness how intently he was marking every move she made, from the bob of her throat as she swallowed to the satisfied smile that appeared on her mouth. Aelin turned to him and held out the box.

“No thank you,” Rowan said. “They’re for you,”

Her eyes narrowed. “I just want you to  _ try  _ one. I know you don’t eat sweets, but just try one. For me. For my birthday,”

Rowan was going to refuse, but her eyes were so pleading, lips twisted in a whisper of a pout. She didn’t falter from his steely gaze, simply cocking her head to the side, looking far more sweet and innocent that Rowan knew she actually was, but, he still cracked. He snatched up one of the chocolates and tossed it into his mouth.

Aelin watched him expectantly as he chewed, completely silent until he swallowed.

“Well?” she asked.

“I suppose it is… appetizing,”

Aelin scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “Only you would taste the greatest candy in Terrasen and call it  _ appetizing, _ ”

“It does nothing for your body,”

“If I wanted something good for my body I would eat vegetables!”

Rowan laughed and Aelin’s stormy expression softened. She put the top back on the chocolates and placed them to her side before one of her hands cupped his jaw and she leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you, Rowan,” she breathed. She settled down, nudging a bit closer and leaning her head on his shoulder. He felt any tension leave her body as she relaxed.

Her lips left a phantom trace on his face, as if they had delightfully burned him, branded him. Part of him asserted that it was inappropriate, from the brush of her lips to how she was draped against him. He was crossing lines, boundaries, that he shouldn’t, but… as her breathing evened and deepened, he couldn’t find it within himself to care. 

Rowan’s cheek pressed against the top of her golden head, his own eyes growing heavy as the sound of her breathing, of her heartbeat, lulled him to sleep. He was only able to mumble out one last thing before he succumbed to the darkness.

“Happy birthday, Fireheart,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed! I just reached 500 kudos so thank you all! I love writing this and it makes me so so so happy to hear thank yall love to read it! Let me know what you guys think!


	22. Chapter 22

Spring flowed into summer, marked by hotter days and brighter sun. Though the summer in Terrasen was much milder than the sweltering humidity Rowan was used to in Doranelle, it was still warm enough to grow uncomfortably sweaty when he and the princess trained. On more than one occasion, Aelin would peel off her shirt to cool down after running or a particularly taxing drill. He tried not to stare too long at her exposed skin, darkened by the summer sun, or the toned planes of her stomach. She had put on muscle, had gotten a warrior’s body, over the past few months.

Their training sessions became longer and harder as Aelin continued to hone her skills, to fight viciously and fiercely, to make wise decisions when they counted. She gave every day her all, putting in effort for every drill or exercise, always on time, sometimes even early.

Which made the fact that she was fifteen minutes late this morning even more surprising.

Rowan waited by the gates of Orynth, as he always did, watching the skies. They were a hazy grey this morning, he could scent rain on the wind. It would storm today, but they would persevere through a little rain and thunder. 

That is, if Aelin ever arrived. 

Rowan waited another fifteen minutes before he left his post, making his way through the halls to Aelin’s rooms. He was annoyed that she had kept him waiting, and if he found that she had overslept, had stayed up late the night before fooling around with her friends, he wouldn’t hold back. 

People practically flew out of his path as he made his way down the halls. He was sure the clench of his jaw and the anger in his eyes were enough to make them stay far away, lest he turn his attention towards them instead. 

He was almost to the ornate doors when a savage snarl cut through the air, a monsterous big cat crossing his path and cutting him off. Rowan’s magic readied itself for the threat as he assessed the creature. Huge, white speckled fur, lips pulled back from deadly flesh-tearing teeth as it growled, green eyes flashing. Not a wild animal, the shifter, guarding her friend.

Aedion came up beside the beast, shoulders squared and eyes grave.

“She’s not training. Not today,” the Ashryver prince said evenly. 

Part of Rowan bristled at the fact that the young man was giving him orders, but he reeled himself in before saying with deadly calm, “And why is that?”

Aedion simply shook his head solemnly. “It is not for me to share. Leave her be,”

Rowan blinked, sizing up the golden-haired prince. His fists were clenched tightly, as if expecting a fight. He didn’t look as though he would be backing down any time soon. “She didn’t tell me she would be unavailable today,”

A flash of teeth. “I’m telling you. Leave. Her. Be.”

There was something violent and dangerous in his tone, letting Rowan know he would fight, if he had to. Aedion would defend his cousin, his queen, until his last breath, even against Rowan if he saw him as a threat. Judging by his behavior, there was something wrong with Aelin. He would assume she was ill, but that would have been a simple explanation to give. There was something that they weren’t telling him.

Rowan held Aedion’s gaze for a few more moments, his turquoise eyes blazing in a way that reminded him so much of Aelin. Eventually, Rowan gave a shallow nod. He would back down, leave her alone though part of him wanted to shove Aedion away and go to the princess, to ensure she was alright, to be with her if she needed… but he knew he couldn’t do that now. So, he turned heel and left, trying his best to ignore how every piece of him shouted to be with Aelin, to help her through whatever was ailing her… but now wasn’t the time.

…

Rowan was hardly able to focus for the rest of the day. He sat in his room, watching the fire as the storm raged outside, lightning flashing and thunder shaking his windows. 

All he could think about was the princess locked away in her rooms down the hall. He had been wracking his mind to figure out what had caused her to do this. It couldn’t have been the anniversary of her parents’ deaths, that had occurred before Rowan had returned to Terrasen. Perhaps one of their birthdays? But, Rowan didn’t know for sure. 

He made a valiant effort of keeping to himself, of giving Aelin the space her cousin and friend had said she needed, but the day melted into night and the halls grew quiet, leaving Rowan with nothing but his thoughts and the sound of the rain lashing against his window until he couldn't take it anymore.

He stood from his desk, the legs of his chairs squeaking against the stone floor. Before Rowan could think better of it, he was already halfway down the hall. 

There was no one there to stop him as he reached her door, rapping his knuckles gently against the wood. It was late, perhaps she was sleeping. He didn’t wish to disturb her if that was the case. 

But, she spoke from within her room, voice muffled and soft through the thick wooden door.

“Come in,”

Rowan pushed into her room, finding it in near darkness, illuminated by only two candles and the lightning from the storm. Aelin was seated at the window seat, forehead pressed against the glass as she watched the storm rage, knees tucked up to her chest. Her hair was unbound, falling freely down her back. She wore a long, white nightgown, something that Rowan never would have pictured her wearing.

She turned towards him as he shut the door with a soft click. She sat up straighter, brows furrowed, as she recognized him. She stood, taking a few steps closer.

“Rowan,” she said, voice soft and raw enough that he could tell she hadn’t used it much today. “I- sorry, I just assumed you were Aedion. Is… is everything alright?”

“That’s what I came here to see,” Rowan said, taking a few steps deeper into her room. He was close enough that he could see her eyes were puffy, dark circles weighing them down. “I wanted to make sure you were okay. I worried when you didn’t come for training this morning,”

Aelin sighed and hung her head. “I wanted to, I really did, but I just… couldn’t get out of bed this morning,”

“Are you unwell?”

“No, no,” Aelin shook her head, eyes shutting softly as if she were looking for the words the say. When she opened them again, there was understanding, and sorrow in them. She padded over to her bed, tucking her feet to her side, leaning against the headboard. She patted the spot beside her, a silent request for Rowan to sit.

Rowan crossed the room, lowering himself beside the princess. With a flick of her wrist, a blaze jumped to life in her fireplace, lighting the room. He watched as Aelin fiddled with the hem of her nightgown, chewing her bottom lip hard enough Rowan worried she may draw blood. Eventually, she spoke over the sound of the storm and the crackling firewood.

“You once asked me if I’ve ever loved,” she rasped. “I told I that I have. I loved, and I loved desperately, painfully… his name was Sam, and I lost him,”

Her voice wavered enough that Rowan took her hand within his own, giving it a firm, comforting squeeze. She sent him a grateful smile before sucking down a deep, steadying breath.

“I met him last summer…”

…

_ The first time Aelin Ashryver Galathynius met Sam Cortland, she had been in Rifthold for a week. She had grown tired of the crystalline halls of the glass castle, and although she was thankful for Dorian and Chaol for keeping her company, she couldn’t take it anymore. She couldn’t stand keeping a pleasant smile on her face all day though her soul raged and screamed, that her parents had been taken from her, that she was next in line for the throne. She could try to stay distracted all she wanted in the palace, but what she really wanted, was to forget. _

_ She began sneaking out of the palace most nights, made easier by a secret passage in her suite that led outside the palace walls. She had discovered it years ago out of boredom and never had any use for it until now. Beside, without Aedion hovering over her at all times, it was easy to disappear. _

_ She preferred the shady parts of the city where people didn’t look too long at one another, lest they accidentally invite a brawl. There was less of a chance that she would be recognized, less of a chance that someone would report back to the palace that the heir to the throne of Terrasen was drinking herself stupid. With a hooded cloak and the permanent snarl on her face, no one spared her a second glance. _

_ It was well past midnight when she stumbled out of the tavern. Kicked-out was a better way to describe it, since all of the patrons were complaining that she was cheating at cards. She was, to be fair. Aedion always said she was a lousy card player. _

_ Aelin was shoved out through the door in a manner that would have cost them a hand if anyone knew who she was. She stumbled right into a hard body, able to right herself before she fell to the cobblestone road under her. _

_ “Watch where you’re going,” Aelin hissed, shoving the figure away from her. _

_ “You’re the one that crashed into me,” the figure snapped. _

_ Aelin whipped towards him, eyes narrowed dangerously, and she looked at the man.  _

_ He was really more of a boy, perhaps one or two years older than she was. He too, wore a hooded cloak despite the warm weather, but she could see his messy, short brown hair, warm eyes, and olive skin. The unpleasant sneer on his handsome face lessened as he took her in.  _

_ “It isn’t safe to be wandering alone in this part of the city,” the boy said.  _

_ Aelin released a bitter scoff, turning and heading down the street. “I can take care of myself,” _

_ Footsteps followed as the boy came beside her, matching her pace. “You’re obviously not from Adarlan, you have a Terrasen accent. If you get lost, someone could take advantage of you,” _

_ Aelin’s upper lip pulled back from her teeth, flashing dangerously sharp canines that made the boy stop in his tracks. _

_ “I’d like to see them try,” _

_ He didn’t follow her again. _

_ … _

_ The next time Aelin saw him, it was a week later.  _

_ The had discovered one of Rifthold’s “finest” establishments, a bar that doubled as a pit-fighting ring. The Vaults. It was disgusting, but she supposed it was entertaining to watch these unqualified men beat the shit out of each other. She took two nights to assess the competition before she decided to get her own hands dirty. _

_ Aelin bought cheap dye for her hair that could be washed out when she returned to the palace, put on a mask that covered the lower half of her face, and used a false name.  _ Celaena Sardothien.  _ It had a vicious little ring to it. _

_ Aelin was easily able to best the opponents that came down in the pits with her. They were brawlers looking to make some coin, she had been trained by a legendary Fae warrior. _

_ The princess hadn’t thought of Rowan Whitehthorn much since he had been summoned to war, perhaps occasionally wondering of his well-being, but she couldn’t help but think he would be proud as she kicked a man in the chest, sending him flying back and perhaps breaking one or two ribs in the process. He didn’t get back up.  _

_ Aelin liked fighting. It helped her forget what had happened to her parents, gave her a place to release the anger and frustration that had been building up in her. She let the skin on her knuckles break and bleed, let it sting. She didn’t care. _

_ She was announced victor. Aelin had yet to lose a match, but she had little need for the coin she earned. She gave it to the urchins on the street, the children begging for a few coppers, the whores with dull eyes, perhaps to save them from a night sharing a bed with a vile man. She handed out the coin she had earned until her pockets were empty, every night. _

_ Someone offered her a hand out of the pit. She clutched a strong forearm as she was hauled up to the top, ready to get her earnings, when the man who helped her spoke. _

_ “So,  _ you’re  _ the Celaena that’s been winning so much,” _

_ Aelin glanced over and saw that boy from outside the bar. He wasn’t wearing a hood tonight, giving her a clearer look at his features. Yes, he was handsome, if she cared about that sort of thing. _

_ “I must say, I don’t quite like the new hair,” he drawled. _

_ “I don’t care,” Aelin said, brushing past him. Again, he followed. _

_ “You know, I’m normally the one winning all the matches here,” the boy said, trailing behind her. _

_ “Really? Haven’t seen you in the pits before,”  _

_ “I’ve been away on a job,” _

_ Aelin hummed noncommittally, reaching the man who hashed out the winnings. He placed a small bag of coin in her awaiting palm, which Aelin pocketed swiftly. Better not flash it about to make herself a target for would-be thieves. _

_ “You’re an excellent fighter,” the boy said. “Who taught you?” _

_ “A legendary immortal warrior, the most powerful Fae male alive,” said Aelin dryly enough that the boy must have thought she was lying. She moved to go past him, to get the hell out of that place. _

_ “Wait,” he said, stopping her with a single word. “Let me buy you a drink,” _

_ Aelin was on the verge of saying no, but she glimpsed that fragile hope on his face, so at odds with the cesspool that they were currently occupying, that she nodded. He smiled, a crooked smile as if he were unused to the expression.  _

_ He held out a hand. “I’m Sam,” _

_ Sam. She didn’t know why, but the name fit. Aelin shook his hand, offering him the most polite smile she could muster, and found, for the first time in months, that it wasn’t completely faked. _

_ “Nice to meet you,” _

_ They sat down at the bar, Sam ordering them each an ale. Aelin didn’t want to tell him it was the worst ale she had ever tasted, but to be fair, she was used to the best of the best. Hearty beers and expensive wines were always about the castle in Orynth. But, she could tolerate this watered-down drink for now. At least it was cold. _

_ “When I saw you last, you had…” he trailed off, pointing to his canines. “I thought you were Fae,” _

_ Aelin was currently in her mortal form. She knew that if she fought with her Fae abilities, she wouldn’t be allowed down in the pits because of the advantages it offered her.  _

_ “I have Fae ancestry,” Aelin explain. “I can shift forms, but for now, I’m mortal,” _

_ To his credit, he didn’t seem unnerved about the Fae blood that ran through her veins. Aelin knew that it made some mortals uneasy, to know that she and others like them had parts of them that they saw as wild, dangerous, and unpredictable.  _

_ “What do you do?” Aelin asked. _

_ “I’m sorry?” _

_ “Your job. You said you were traveling for it,” _

_ “Ah. I’m a merchant,” _

_ An honest enough trade, though he clearly wasn’t making enough to keep him comfortable is he frequented places such as this, fighting in the pits for extra coin.  _

_ They talked throughout the night, finding out little things about one another. Hobbies, books they enjoy, places they had traveled… and Aelin found herself thoroughly enjoying Sam’s company. He was sweet, and could make her earnestly laugh despite the darkness that had been covering her heart for these past months. As he grew bolder, he began to blatantly flirt with her, not that Aelin minded in the slightest, returning the favor.  _

_ But, eventually, Aelin knew she could not risk staying out any later, and made to leave. _

_ “Let me walk you home,” Sam offered. _

_ The princess shook her head. It was smarter to let him not know who she really was, to let him keep thinking she was Celaena. The more people who knew her true heritage, the more risk she put herself in. If people caught wind that the heir to Terrasen was frequenting the underbelly of Rifthold, someone might get the foolish idea to come after her, either robbing her or trying to get a ransom. Both would end badly for the offender, but she would just rather not risk it.  _

_ “I’ll be alright,” Aelin told the boy. _

_ Graciously, he didn’t push the idea, but he did ask something else. “When will I see you again?” _

_ She simply sent him a tiny smirk. “Find me tomorrow night,”  _

_ And he had. _

_ Every night following, no matter where Aelin went, from the pits to the shadiest taverns, Sam would find her and buy her a drink, and eventually, Aelin began to buy  _ him  _ drinks. She found that she liked being with him, that he made her laugh and smile, that she could feel better without getting disastrously drunk or beating the shit out of men in the fighting pits. He didn’t make her forget about her mother and father, no one could, but he made her feel better. _

_ She began to tell him things about herself, little half-truths. He knew that her parents had recently passed, but didn’t know who they were. He knew that she had no siblings, only a cousin, but had no idea that the cousin was the famous Wolf of the North.  _

_ And, she learned things about him. Never knew his parents, grew up learning his trade. No siblings that he was aware of. His answers were just as vague as hers, but she couldn’t really judge him for not telling her everything. She was doing the same. _

_ One night, she had been standing by the harbor, breathing in the briney air. She was in her Fae form, finding it safer to travel in down the slums. She could smell every layer of scent around her, from the sea to the sewage to the fish. She wondered how the Fae stood being able to smell everything all the time, the good and the bad.  _

_ She heard footsteps casually approaching. Two people. One was Sam, judging by his scent. The other… she didn’t recognize. Female, strange… _

_ Aelin looked over her shoulder and found Sam approaching with a stunning, raven-haired woman. _

_ That was the first time Aelin met Lysandra. _

_ She felt something unpleasant in her gut seeing Sam with this gorgeous woman, who dressed just as nice as she did. The dark green velvet on her dress brought out the bright color of her eyes. The only thing that made Aelin feel a bit better was that the girl looked just as nervous as she felt. _

_ “Celaena!” Sam had called, flashing her that crooked grin that Aelin had grown to cherish. He stopped, the girl staying close to his side. Aelin could tell she wasn’t trying to signal any kind of possession to her, but rather just gravitating to the person who she trusted, who she was familiar with. Sam motioned to the girl. “This is my friend, Lysandra. I wanted you two to meet… I just thought you would get along,” _

_ Aelin watched the girl, Lysandra, for another beat. Her hand was running over her bare forearm, at the dark ink that decorated it. Try as she might to hide it, Aelin saw the tattoo. She recognized the mark from her time in the city, signaling that the bearer was a courtesan.  _

_ Lysandra’s throat bobbed as she swallowed nervously, awaiting Aelin’s reaction. She knew that Aelin had recognized the mark. _

_ So, Aelin smiled, broadly, hoping her canines didn’t frighten the girl. She held out a hand. “Pleased to meet you,” _

_ Lysandra straightened, offering her own smile, as she took Aelin’s hand and shook it. Her green eyes raked over Aelin’s face, and she could have sworn she saw something mischievous in them as she flashed a feline smile. “I like your fangs,” _

_ Aelin ran her tongue over their sharp tips. “I’m rather fond of them as well,” _

_ And that was the start of another cherished relationship. _

_ She and Sam found an abandoned warehouse in the slums that they used to meet up, spend the night lounging around and talking until duty called Aelin back to the glass castle. _

_ Lysandra would join them when she wasn’t “working”. As the months went on and they got to know one another better, Lysandra confessed to Aelin of her true heritage, told her about her gifts as a shifter. Aelin would never forget the fear in her friend’s eyes as the information came to light, how worried she was that Aelin would turn her back on her, shun her for how she was born. Little did Lysandra know that Aelin probably understood better than most how frightening having abilities of that caliber were. _

_ Aelin found herself wanting to tell her friends every day of her true identity, to shout her name and show them her fires, but she would always grow too frightened when the opportunity presented itself.  _

_ And then one night, everything changed. _

_ Aelin had been down in the pits, taking down challenger after challenger. Sam hadn’t yet found her that night, giving her more time to work the crowd into a frenzy as she moved. Oh, she could practically hear Aedion screaming at her for being so reckless, but as her fist drove itself into a man’s gut, she couldn’t bring herself to care. Aelin ended the match by slamming the man’s head into the stone wall, knowing he would have an excruciating headache in the morning.  _

_ A scarred hand dipped down to help her out of the pits. Aelin didn’t think twice before grabbing onto the man’s forearm as he hauled her up. She made to breeze away, but that hand became an iron manacle on her upper arm, stopping her from moving away. _

_ “So,” a deep, male voice murmured. “You’re the infamous Celaena Sardothien,” _

_ Aelin’s gaze traveled from the hand banding her arm, up his well-clad torso, to an aristo face framed with silky red hair. His silver eyes were cold, watching her intently. _

_ “If you value your hand, I suggest you let me go,” Aelin said with lethal calm. _

_ But the man just let out a dry chuckle. “I’m afraid you don’t quite scare me,” _

_ Aelin could feel the magic in her blood begging to be released, to turn this man to ash like she had Melisande’s general. She could almost feel her skin growing hotter, but something stopped her before she set the place ablaze. _

_ “Arobynn,” _

_ Sam was standing on Aelin’s other side, his normally warm, kind eyes filled with violence as he looked at the man who held her. Arobynn, he had said. But surely this man couldn’t be… why would Sam know…? _

_ “Mister Cortland,” Arobynn said with a sickeningly false smile.  _

_ “Let her go,” Sam said, hands drifting to the blades sheathed on his thighs, as if he expected he would have to fight off the man. _

_ “Why, I just wanted to see if Miss Sardothien here was looking for employment. I’ve heard so many wickedly delightful things about you,” he said, turning that unnerving grin on her. “That is, if you’re looking to make good coin. I’m afraid the pit-masters are terribly cheap,”  _

_ Aelin tore her arm out of his grip, taking a few steps back until she reached Sam’s side. “I’m not on the market,” _

_ Arobynn raised a brow. “Are you sure? I could always use a woman of your talents,” _

_ “I’m sure,” Aelin ground out through clenched teeth.  _

_ A breathy sigh. “Very well then. If you change your mind, Miss Sardothien… Sam here can point you in the right direction,” _

_ Sam was tense beside her, not daring take his eyes off the man until he disappeared into the crowd. Only then did the boy release a breath, shoulders slumping ever so slightly. He finally looked at her, something frantic and sad in his dark brown eyes. Aelin didn’t even think twice about the way her stomach fluttered when he took her hand into his calloused one. _

_ “Come with me,” _

_ He didn’t let go of her hand as she trailed him through the tavern, over the rain-wet streets, and down the familiar alleys until they reached their warehouse. Even when they entered, as they went up the stairs to the roof, Sam held her hand. Only once they sat down side by side on the ledge of the roof, legs dangling off the edge, did Sam finally release her. _

_ He was silent, uncharacteristically so. In the moonlight, Aelin could see the worry that marred his handsome features. His mouth, normally twisted into a smile that made her heart jump, was drawn into a taut line. Aelin wanted to reach out, run her fingertips over those lips until he smiled for her again. _

_ Eventually, he spoke. _

_ “I haven’t been completely honest with you, Celaena,” he said at length, voice raspy with worry. “I haven’t told you truly who I am… that man, that rutting  _ bastard  _ back there was-” _

_ “Arobynn Hamel,” Aelin finished for him. “King of the Assassins… and I’m assuming, your master,” _

_ Even in Terrasen, they had heard his name. When Sam called for him, it didn’t take Aelin long to put the pieces together. Who that man had been and who Sam was. It would explain all the scars peppering his hands and body, all the places he’s traveled, why he always carried steel on him and why he was so skilled at fighting. Sam was an assassin. Aelin had been wondering about it for days now, but the night’s events proved her suspicions.  _

_ There was shock in Sam’s eyes as he looked at her, but that surprised shifted into something else. Sorrow? Remorse? _

_ “Yes…” _

_ And so, Sam told her his story. That he was birthed to a whore who gave him to Arobynn, that the man had trained him in death and pain and darkness, racking up debts with every cut and bruise the man had dealt him. Sam told her that doing Arobynn’s bidding seemed better than the alternatives of starving on the street or whoring himself out like Lysandra had been forced to do. So, he became an assassin, a good one, in fact.  _

_ “I’m a filthy liar, Celaena,” Sam mused, head hung low. “When I saw you for the first time, although there was pain in your eyes, there was something bright and beautiful too. I was afraid that if I told you who I was, what I really did, you would go running as far away as you could, and I never would have gotten the opportunity to have your light in my life. So, I lied. It was selfish of me, but I did it anyway. I’m sorry, Celaena,” _

_ Aelin let his words ring through the air until they were blanketed by silence once again. He sounded as though he expected her to be disgusted by him, to leave without another word… but Aelin simply reached a tentative hand forward and placed it on Sam’s chest, right over his steadily beating heart. His eyes snapped to hers. _

_ “I’ve known who you are this whole time because I knew your  _ heart,  _ Sam,” Aelin whispered, voice barely louder than a breath. “What you do, what you have to do to survive… it’s not who you are,” _

_ Sam let out a shuddering breath that ghosted across Aelin’s face. His eyes bored into hers with an intensity she had never seen before, her heart jumping in her chest. She had come to care about him greatly in these months she had spent in Adarlan, in a manner she knew was different than how she cared for her friends and family. So, that’s why Aelin didn’t really surprise herself when she tilted her head up and brushed her lips against his. It was soft at first, no more than the soft beat of a butterflies wings. Aelin pulled back far enough to look at Sam, to gauge his reaction, but didn’t get much time before his hand cupped her jaw tenderly, reverently, and his lips came crashing down on hers.  _

_ It was like in the books Aelin read, how every thought flew from her head as he held her, as her heart fluttered wildly against her ribcage, how she felt as though they were the only people in the world. Aelin had kissed boys before, but it had never felt like that. Never even close. _

_ When they parted, the feeling the Sam’s lips still a phantom caress on her own, Aelin knew what she had to do.  _

_ “Now there’s something I need to tell you,” Aelin admitted. She took a deep, steadying breath before throwing back her hood and fixing her posture. The posture of a princess. She held herself with practiced grace that was second nature to her at this point as she looked towards Sam. “My name isn’t Celaena Sardothien,” she held out a hand, flames jumping to life and dancing between her fingertips, the warmth comforting across her face. “My name is Aelin Ashryver Galathynius,” _

_ Sam looked as though she had knocked the wind out his him, blinking rapidly as he seemed to see her again for the first time. She could practically see the pieces fitting together in his head, from her eyes, to the stories about her family, to her Fae blood and magic. He knew that she was telling the truth. _

_ Now, it was Aelin’s turn to be frightened. She swallowed thickly as Sam allowed this information to settle in, as he went from looking shocked to pensive to understanding. When he looked back up from his hand, he had that little shy, crooked smirk back on this face. _

_ “So you’re telling me I just kissed a princess?” _

_ Aelin could have kissed him again for how casual he seemed, and so she did, snatching his collar and pulling his mouth against her one more time. She could feel his smile against her own lips. _

_ And so, the assassin and the firebringer spent the rest of the night in each other’s arms. Happy.  _

_ … _

_ Another few weeks went by, and it felt as though a weight had been lifted from Aelin’s chest. She and Sam could now share everything about one another, uninhibited. They no longer went to the taverns, rather just choosing to hole up in the warehouse that it seemed they had taken over.  _

_ But, as her happiness grew, as she became closer and closer with Sam, the feeling of dread in her gut grew heavier. She would eventually have to leave Adarlan, but she wasn’t willing to leave Sam behind. _

_ They were sprawled out on the floor, picking through a bag of candies that Sam had surprised her with that evening. She was tucked up to his side, head resting against his chest, listening to the deep beat of his heart. _

_ “Will you come with me to Terrasen?” Aelin asked. _

_ She felt him stiffen. Sam shifted until he sat up straight and could look her in the eye. _

_ “I couldn’t,” he said, voice breaking with agony and guilt. “Arobynn, the Guild, they still own me. To breach that contract… I would be putting you and your court in danger. I won’t do that,” _

_ Aelin could understand his reasoning, but imagining a life without him by her side was unacceptable. So, she said something foolish, reaching out and twining her fingers with his. _

_ “Then run away with me. Somewhere where they can’t find us,” _

_ It was an idiotic idea, really. The wish of a dreaming child. Part of Aelin knew she would be leaving her family and friends behind, but it wouldn’t be forever. Once they understood that she was in love, that she couldn’t take that crown promised to her… she would see them again. No matter what. She just… wasn’t ready. A few months ago, Aelin had years and years to prepare to take the throne but now, she was lucky if she had half a decade more of freedom. She needed time. Put a steward on the throne for a bit if needed. Aelin’s gut felt like lead when she thought about that antler crown on her brow. _

_ But Sam… her throat constricted uncomfortably as she waited for his reply. She was just about to brush the idea off when he spoke. _

_ “You’d truly do that?” he asked. _

_ “Of course. We’d hop on a ship, get far enough away until we can rest, get some money until we can afford our own ship, and then we’d sail until we reached someone no one has ever mapped,”  _

_ Sam beamed and kissed her quickly. He scrambled to his feet, hauling Aelin up with him, holding her in his arms. “We’ll leave the night after next. I have some money saved up,” _

_ Aelin’s heart skipped a beat. They were going to do this, she was going to have the opportunity to live a normal life away from crowns and courts and advisors. “I’ll bring some of my jewels. We can sell those, make good coin,” _

_ The smile of Sam’s face only disappeared as he leaned down and kissed her deeply, and slowly. It was the kind of kiss that left Aelin breathless. Sam’s forehead rested against hers when he pulled away, her hands fisting his tunic. _

_ “I love you, Aelin,” _

_ Her sharp intake of breath must have been loud enough that Sam heard it. _

_ “You don’t have to say it back. Not yet,” Sam explained, simply holding her against him. “I just… I just wanted you to know,” _

_ They stood in silence for a few more minutes, swaying in the quiet darkness that surrounded them. Aelin wouldn’t have minded if that moment lasted for eternity, but it came to an end. _

_ “You should head back, get your bags packed,” Sam murmured at length. _

_ Aelin nodded. He was right. She pressed one last lingering kiss to his lips. “I’ll see you here tomorrow night,” _

_ The joy in his eyes was stunning as she gave her a tiny smile. “I’ll see you then, Aelin,” _

_ … _

_ That night and throughout the next day, Aelin began to pack. She feigned a headache to sequester herself in her suite undisturbed through the morning and afternoon as she packed. She tried to keep it as light as she could,  shoving most of her gold and jewels into her satchel, with only a few changes of clothes and two of her favorite books. If they had the luxury of time and resources, Aelin would have packed trunks of her favorite books and gowns, but she had to work with the hand she was dealt. _

_ Tomorrow night, before meeting Sam to leave, she would sneak into the kitchen and grab some provisions to make sure they were as fresh as they could be. But, tonight, her last full night in Adarlan, she simply shoved her packs under her bed. She changed quickly before sneaking out into the night, excited to see Sam, to quietly plan their life together as they huddled in their little sanctuary.  _

_ He said he loved her. She had never had a man tell her that. It had taken her by surprise enough that she hadn’t been able to say anything back, though she knew, deep in her soul, that she loved him as well. Tonight. She would tell Sam tonight. _

_ She followed the familiar path to their warehouse, feeling light and airy and just so  _ excited  _ for life, something she hadn’t felt in a long while. But, when she rolled opened one of the massive doors to the warehouse, she instantly knew something was wrong. Before she even scented or saw anything, it felt as though she had been doused on freezing water. _

_ She smelled it first. The blood. The scent was intertwined with something else, something that Aelin would later be able to identify as gloriella. Her keen Fae eyes were able to make out a shape in the darkness, a figure sprawled out on the floor. Sam. She knew it was Sam. _

_ A desperate sob escaped from the back of her throat as she stumbled towards him, falling to her knees at his side and witnessing what had been done to him.  _

_ His body had been brutalized, face bloodied and bruised nearly beyond recognition. There was deep, drawn out slashes going down his face, his whole body. Aelin could tell they had been done slowly, to inflict the most pain possible. His eyes were gouged out, nothing but vacant sockets staring into the ceiling. She could smell burnt flesh, could tell they had branded him across his body with hot iron. There was a huge puddle of blood, soaking his clothes, Aelin’s trousers. It had gone cold. The body had gone completely cold. How long had he been like this? How long had Sam been hurt? How could she have not known? She must have- she should have- _

_ Aelin vomited. The sights, the smells, the feel… it was all to much.  _

_ She placed her trembling hands on his chest, as if she may still feel his heart beating against his broken ribs… but there was nothing. _

_ And that when the screaming started. _

_ Never had such a sound escaped Aelin’s lips, never had she been witness to a cry of devastation quite like hers. The sound reverberated against the high stone walls encasing them, like a tomb. She wondered if Sam’s screams had echoed like hers as they killed him. _

_ The sobs tore through Aelin, shaking her frame, as she laid her head on Sam’s chest.  _

_ She didn’t know how long she lay there, screaming and sobbing until her throat was raw, until she no longer emitted any sound. She knew that by the time she had no tears left to shed, Sam’s blood had dried on her hands, under her nails. _

_ Eventually, Aelin sat up, face devastatingly empty, but eyes brimming with rage. She ran a hand down Sam’s savaged cheek, through the blood-caked hair, before pressing a kiss to his cold forehead. _

_ “I love you,” Aelin gasped, hoping that in some benevolent afterworld, Sam had heard his declaration and was now no longer watching her. _

_ Because there were the scents of three males lingering in the warehouse, scents that hadn’t been there the night before. _

_ And Aelin was going to hunt them down and slaughter them like the animals they were, hoping that they would feel one ounce of the pain that was currently coursing through her body. _

_ Aelin whispered a prayer to Mala for forgiveness before she curled to her feet, jaw clenched in icy determination. _

_ They would pay. _

…

“I tracked their scent through Rifthold,” Aelin muttered to Rowan. She knew her eyes had gone blank as she recounted a part of her story she had never told a single soul. Not Aedion, not Lysandra. She didn’t want to risk their pity or their horror when she told them what they did next. But Rowan… he would understand.

“I was only able to find two out of the three,” Aelin admitted. “The third had left the city. I didn’t have time to follow him, but I always wish that I’ll just happen upon him. One day,”

Rowan’s voice was tentative when he spoke. “The other two?”

Aelin’s fingers curled into fists. “When I found them, I took my time with them. I hurt them like they had hurt Sam, and then some. I slaughtered them, chopped their bodies into pieces, and left them for the rats. Sometimes at night, I can still hear them screaming,  _ begging,  _ for mercy. They didn’t find any,” she swallowed, daring to look at Rowan. There was pain and understanding on his face. No pity, no disgust. “I- I never told anyone what I did to those men. I didn’t come back to the palace until late afternoon the next day. They were in a riot, looking for me, fearing the worst about a lost princess. Until, I strolled through the front gates, soaked in blood that was not my own. They took me to the healers, but I wasn’t injured. Not physically, at least. They tried to find out where I had gone, what had happened, but I wouldn’t talk. Eventually, they just stopped asking,

“They cleaned me up and sent me to my rooms, stationing guards outside my door. I didn’t talk for hours, until Dorian and Chaol came in. They didn’t ask anything of me, just providing company and comfort… but I requested a favor of Dorian. He didn’t ask any questions when I asked to have a courtesan discretely brought up to my rooms, nor when I asked to be alone with her. I- don’t think Sam had anyone else but me and her. I told Lysandra what had happened, held her as we cried, and when we were done, arranged for a grave. He’s in a beautiful little yard by the river.”

For a few moments, they sat in silence, interrupted only by the occasional sniff from the princess.

“It was a year ago today that I found Sam’s body,” Aelin murmured.

“Why did they do it?” Rowan mused.

But Aelin only let out a bitter laugh. “That’s a question I ask myself every day. I didn’t recognize those men, though their scents were all over Sam’s body, and when I found them, I was too far gone to even think about asking  _ why.  _ All I could think about was spilling their blood, making them pay. Perhaps it was just a cruel twist of fate from the gods, punishing me for being wickedly selfish, for thinking about leaving my family and kingdom behind. I deserved it,”

“You never deserve that kind of pain, Aelin,” Rowan said firmly enough that she looked at him, at the clench of his strong jaw. “I know that better than most,”

He knew better than anyone. After he lost Lyria… Aelin couldn’t imagine the agony Rowan had felt, if it was anything like she did. She would never think he deserved that sort of pain, and judging by the way he was looking at her, the frustration that she would even think something like that, Rowan thought the same about her. She felt a hot tear dribble down her cheek.

“What I did to those men, Rowan,” she whispered, voice breaking. “I slaughtered them in cold blood, left them in pieces for the vermin,”

“Good,” he stated simply. “You should have. I left the men who had killed Lyria scattered across the mountain tops for the scavengers. It’s what monsters like them deserve, and  _ you,  _ Aelin,” his hand reached out and took hers, fingers slipping between her own as he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Despite what you’re thinking, you’re nothing like them. You are a good woman, Aelin Galathynius,”

She tried to hold back the sob threatening to spill from her lips but failed miserably. Part of her felt foolish of ever being worried of what Rowan might think of her. He wouldn’t judge her for fearing the responsibility that came with the crown, of taking revenge for the loss of the people she loved. She was thankful for him, so incredibly grateful for which ever benevolent god took pity on her and sent Rowan her way.

One of his huge arms wrapped around her shoulders, tucking her into his side. Aelin didn’t think twice before resting her head against his broad chest, snaking her arms around his middle. His hand stroked her hair as Aelin shed the last of her tears, and even when she had calmed, he didn’t pull away. The princess lost herself in his pine and snow scent, the warmth of his body. She heard his breathing deepen as the fire died and the moon rose above the evergreens.

Aelin fell asleep to the soothing lullaby of his steadily beating heart.

…

Rowan awoke slowly the next day and, judging by the bright, golden sun filtering through the window, much later than he was used to rising. It took him longer than he cared to admit to figure out where he was. He was sprawled on top of the covers of a bed that was not his own, in a room that did not belong to him.

There was a small sigh as his side. Aelin, blissfully asleep, head resting on his chest. Her face was softened as she slumbered, more relaxed than Rowan had ever remembered seeing it. The warm glow of the sun kissed her skin, highlighting the splatter of freckles over the bridge of her pert nose and her messy golden hair. She was truly a beautiful woman, something Rowan was having a harder and harder time ignoring. 

She was unlike anyone she had ever met. Her fiery spirit and sharp tongue enthralled him to no end. Despite the pain she had been through, despite losing so many that she loved, Aelin was still kind, could still smile and laugh with her friends, with  _ him.  _

He was in her rooms. He hadn’t gotten a good look at the space the night before, but now he could see that it was definitely Aelin’s suite. She had robes draped over chairs and hanging from her wardrobe, a jewelry box that was overflowing with necklaces and rings. There were well-worn books scattered on every available surface. 

He shouldn’t be here. In her bed, limbs tangled with hers. He cursed his stupidity for allowing himself to fall asleep the night before, but he had been weak. Rowan had held her against him, felt her body pressed up to his side. He had fallen asleep listening to her steady breaths.

He was risking too much by being in here. People would talk, and it would reflect badly on both of them if word started spreading around Orynth that Rowan Whitethorn had spent the night in Aelin’s chambers. He knew what rumors would arise.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t thought about it, he had, especially after the dreams that plagued him on Beltane. Aelin was a beautiful female, but if he were to become intimate with her, it would be… messy. He never gave it serious thought, it wouldn’t,  _ couldn’t,  _ happen. Even if a part of him wanted nothing more than to wake up like this every day. 

Rowan knew he should leave.

But, before he forced his body from the bed, his hand reached out and brushed a strand of her hair out of her face, before tucking it behind her ear. He should have pulled away then, but he couldn’t stop himself from tracing his fingertips over the curve of her cheek, across the angle of her jaw, to the point of her chin. 

Rowan slowly stood, carefully untangling himself from the princess. He didn’t miss how her arm reached across the bed, searching for someone who was no longer there. He took a blanket from the foot of her bed before draping it over her body. He would let her sleep. She deserved it.

Rowan cast one last lingering glance at the princess, the last he would allow himself. He stalked across the room, quietly pushing open the doors to the balcony before shifting. He would fly over the Oakwald this morning, to clear his mind and forget the feeling of Aelin sleeping beside him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ended up being a really long chapter, but I had a lot to fit in to it. I hope you guys enjoyed, even though it was a bit angsty. Let me know what you all think! I love hearing yalls thoughts on the chapter. Thank you guys for the continued support on this story, it really motivates me to keep it going!!! <3


	23. Chapter 23

The next day, things had fallen back into their regular rhythm. Aelin showed up on time for training, looking well rested and ready for the day. Rowan was glad to see no trace of the devastation he had seen when she told him about Sam. 

They sparred in a shaded clearing, keeping out of the brutal afternoon sun. No magic or blades, just fists and wits. They moved quickly, flashes of kicks and punches and blocks. 

Rowan had to put in serious effort when sparring the princess now. She had improved at an incredible rate, becoming one of the most fearsome warriors he had ever witnessed. He knew that the day that she would be able to best him was fast approaching, but it was not this day.

She had placed a hand on his shoulder, lining herself up to sweep his legs out from under him, but Rowan had moved just quick enough to stop her, grabbing onto her wrists in an iron grip and backing her up against the sturdy trunk of a towering pine. Her arms were pinned above her head, Rowan pressing his legs against hers before she could kick him away, a move that she had been using for frequently that left bruises on his torso. She tried to tug her arms out his grasp fruitlessly, leading to her growling in frustration. If there was one thing Aelin hated, it was losing. 

“Damn you,” she muttered, eyes narrowed at him.

“It’s not my fault you can’t keep up,” Rowan smirked, knowing it would infuriate her. It did. 

There was a snarl on her face as she craned her neck ever so slightly, getting in Rowan’s face in a way that no one else dared, before snapping, “Bite me, Whitethorn,”

So, he did. 

He lunged forward, taking advantage of her exposed throat to sink his canines into the soft spot where her neck and shoulder met. He heard her gasp, felt her body jerk, before she was able to loosen one of her legs just enough to jam her knee between his legs, not hard enough to seriously hurt, but enough that he was distracted enough that she was able to shove him away. 

“What the rutting hell was that?” Aelin snapped, pressing a hand against the tiny wound on her neck. A thin trail of blood leaked from the hurt, but the tiny punctures were already healing from her Fae blood. “I wasn’t serious!”

Rowan wiped her blood from his mouth. “Don’t expose your throat like that,”

She marched up to his side, face screwed in anger, before punching his arm. “Is this how people behave in Doranelle? You just go around biting one another?” 

Rowan’s lips tightened a fraction. “Not everyone,”

Aelin raised an expectant brow, waiting for him to clarify. 

Rowan cleared his throat. He had forgotten Aelin had grown up surrounded by mortals, that she really knew little of the ways of the Fae. 

“Some of the Fae,” Rowan began slowly. “Use it aggressively. I have seen many torn throats in battle or in simple tavern brawls gone wrong, but others… sometimes, a male will bite a female when they’re being intimate,”

“Do the females bite the males back?” Aelin asked, head tilted to the side.

Rowan couldn’t believe he was having this conversation with her. “Sometimes,”

There was a shit-eating grin on Aelin’s face as she took one step closer, blinking in false innocence. “And has a female ever bitten _ you? _ ”

Rowan tore his gaze away. “We’re not having this conversation,”

Aelin laughed. “Why not? I’m just curious about the culture of the Fae. Tell me,”

“No,”

A pout. “Fine. Do  _ you  _ bite the females you take to bed?”

“Aelin…” Rowan sighed in exasperation.

“What?” she asked. “You’re the one who bit me first! Are you just too embarrassed to tell me?”

“No,” Rowan ground up, knowing that she had only said that to work him up. He knew she would be relentless with her pursuit, so he gave in. “I do not bite the females I take to bed,”

“Any particular reason?”

“When I take a lover, it doesn’t last longer than a season,” Rowan explained. “And when a male bites a female… it’s a claim, of sorts. It ties the two together. I’ve never had the desire to make that sort of claim,”

Aelin nodded slowly as she listened to him, taking in the knowledge. “So, should I be offended that Fenrys  _ didn’t  _ bite me?”

“Alright, you’re done,” Rowan said, ignoring the teasing smile on her face. “You’re not allowed to ask any more questions,”

“Not a single question?”

“That was a question,”

Aelin’s laughter rang through the clearing. 

…

Part of Aelin knew she was dreaming. It was one she’d been having for a year now, she always knew how it ended, but was never able to force herself awake before then, no matter how many times she experienced it.

_ She walked through the doors of a painfully familiar warehouse. It was dark, like it always was, and she knew she would find someone in there. She could see the silhouette of a figure sprawled on the ground, just like there always was. Aelin walked slowly towards the figure, heart in her throat, as she wondered what face she would see tonight. Sometimes it was Sam, it was normally Sam, and she would have to experience the worst moment of her life over and over. But, sometimes, the person lying there wasn’t Sam, but someone else she loved. Aedion or Lysandra, her parents, Orlon, Elide or Ren. She was always too late for them too, she could protect them. _

_ Aelin slowly kneeled before the figure, a strangled cry leaving her throat as she recognized the silver hair stained with blood, the brutally beautiful tattoo torn to bloody ribbons, the pine green eyes staring into nothing, a mouth that would never smile or laugh with her again. _

_ Aelin gasped out a sob as she looked down at the face of Rowan Whitethorn. _

…

Aelin woke up crying, cheeks damp and throat tight. She sat up, rubbing irritably at her eyes, cursing herself for the ridiculous amount she had been crying lately. She supposed the last few days had been tough, but still, she needed to get a hold of herself. 

It had never been Rowan. Not in this dream. Seeing him there, where she had lost Sam, hurt far more than she expected. She didn’t know if she could survive losing anyone else she cared for at this point. Her heart would shatter, she was sure. 

Aelin hugged her knees to her chest. Dreams such as those plagued her most nights at this point, images of losing those she loved, or of her country turning on her, of ruining Terrasen once she takes the throne. She had a hard time sleeping through the night.

Except…

The night she had told Rowan of what had happened with Sam, the night she had expected the nightmares to haunt her the worst, she had slept peacefully through the night with Rowan by her side.

She knew he had left sometime in the morning, but her sheets had still smelled of him. She knew what he was thinking of the whole situation, even if he hadn’t said anything to her. He would probably say it was inappropriate of him to do something like that, that people would whisper about their relationship.

As if Rowan would ever look at her like that. He probably saw her as little more than a friend, his  _ carranam  _ at most, would probably always see her as such. There had been nights when Aelin had pondered it, if she were to take him to bed. He  _ was  _ awfully handsome, and if Fenrys was an example of a Fae lover, most likely knew what he was doing. She had been finding it increasingly difficult to stop her eyes from wandering over the planes of his face, of watching his muscles shift beneath his shirts. She couldn’t forget the hot rush that had gone through her body when he had pinned her to that tree today, that it had taken immense self-control not to arch into him.

But, it would never be like that. Aelin could accept that, because she wouldn’t risk his friendship by making a foolish advance. She would have to banish all those thoughts from her mind. 

Aelin threw the blankets from her legs and stood, snatching up one of her robes and wrapping it over her nightgown, stepping into the first pair of slippers she could find. She knew that what she was doing was partially foolish, but she did it anyway. To the left side of her bed hung a beautiful tapestry, a white stag crowned in fire stitched into the black fabric. She brushed it off to the side, revealing a small stone door, almost invisible if she hadn't known where it was. 

****

Like in Adarlan, there were secret passages built into the ancient stone walls, linking together many of the suites that the royal family and guests occupied. She knew they were there to provide a discrete and quick way to escape the fortress if the worst were to happen, if they were invaded. Aelin had been discouraged from going in them, but she and Aedion had covertly learned their way around them when they were growing up, using them to sneak around cause mischief. 

Aelin pushed open the stone door, stepping into the cold and musty halls. They were low enough that a tall person would have to hunch to avoid hitting their head, narrow enough that two people couldn't stand side by side. Aelin summoned a small lick of flames to her hand before following the twists and turns of the tunnels that would take her to where she wanted to be. 

…

Rowan was roused from sleep when he heard the scrape of stone against stone. His magic jumped awake, searching the room for a threat, but only finding a familiar burning power. 

Rowan sat up, blinking the sleep from his eyes as Aelin appeared across his rooms. She appeared from a small doorway hidden behind a beautiful tapestry. He hadn't had any idea that there were passages in the wall. Her face was illuminated by the ball of flame she cradled in her palm.

"Aelin? What's wrong? Are you alright?" he asked, getting to his feet, crossing the room and coming before her. 

"I'm alright," she assured him, the flame in her hand flickering out. Aelin simply reached out and embraced him, pressing her cheek against his chest. "I just had a nightmare and I…. I had to see you," ****  
** **

Rowan wrapped his arms around the princess, running a soothing hand down her unbound hair. He knew what it was like to be plagued by nightmares, and the way she sounded, it must have been a particularly nasty one.

"Last night," Aelin began, pulling back far enough to peer up at him. "It was the first time in a long time that I was able to sleep through the night. Can I… can I stay with you again tonight?"

Rowan knew he should say no. It was inappropriate in so many different ways, even if no one saw her arrive. There were boundaries that he shouldn't cross, boundaries that he shouldn't even come close to, but here he was, holding the princess in his arms in the privacy of his rooms. He was only in a pair of soft trousers, Aelin in a pale blue silk robe that was slipping down her shoulder. 

He should say no.

But the way Aelin was looking at him, the fragile hope in her eyes, he found he couldn't force himself to deny her.

"Alright," Rowan sighed, watching as her lips curled into a smile. 

Rowan took one side of the bed as Aelin floated to the other. He swallowed hard as he settled himself on his side, watching as Aelin toed off her slippers and shrugged out of her robe, draping it over his desk chair. He inhaled sharply at what she wore under it. It was barely more of a slip of silk of dark blue, lined with matching lace. It confirmed his suspicions that the matronly white gown she had worn the other night wasn't her usual attire.

Rowan forced himself to look away as she leaned over, pulling back the blankets, and slipping into his bed.

"Surely that doesn't keep you warm during the winters," Rowan commented as the princess settled into the mattress.

"It's not the winter," Aelin said, turning to her side to look at him. 

"Do you wear things like that every night?"

"Why? Do you like it?"

Rowan shot her an unamused glare that only made her smirk.

"Most nights," Aelin admitted. "I have quite the collection,"

“And who are you wearing them for?”

“Can’t I just wear them for myself?” Aelin sighed. “You’re very interested in my nightgowns. Don’t Fae females in Doranelle wear them as well?”

“Not that I’ve been witness to,”

Aelin simply hummed and turned on her stomach. She tucked her arms under the pillow as her eyes fluttered shut and she yawned, turning her face away from him.

“Goodnight, Rowan,” 

“Goodnight, Fireheart,”

Rowan waited until he heard her breathing turned deep and even. He still had a hard time believing that she was in his bed, not that there was anything romantic about it. She was as far away as she could be, just sleeping, but she was  _ there.  _ If he wanted to, he could reach out and run his knuckles across her cheek… but he wouldn’t. Aelin wasn’t here for that, she simply wanted somewhere she felt safe to get sleep.

A part of Rowan was immensely pleased that she felt safe with him, safe enough to let herself sleep and be vulnerable. And he could sleep easy as well, knowing the princess was at his side, away from harm.

And when Rowan fell asleep, no nightmares came to him either.

…

Aelin was sleeping deeply when a sudden bright light assaulted her eyes. She let out an annoyed groan and threw her arm over her face to block it, hoping to get a few more moments of bliss.

“Wake up,” Rowan declared.

“Just… five more minutes,” Aelin sighed, tugging the thick blankets to her chin.

She heard Rowan’s footsteps march up beside the bed as he grabbed a pillow and slammed it into her face. It didn’t hurt as much as it just pissed her off. She cracked her eyes open only to glare at Rowan, who was unbothered, simply going about his morning routine that Aelin had grown accustomed to in the past few weeks. 

She really hadn’t meant to make a habit out of staying in Rowan’s rooms, but here she was. Every night for the past couple of weeks, Aelin had used the passages to sneak to Rowan’s chambers. She hated using the word  _ sneak, _ as it implied she was doing something wrong. She wasn’t. They just… talked until they would fall asleep. She had expected Rowan to say something about it, to insist she go back to her own rooms, which she would have done if he wished… but he didn’t. 

Aelin huffed and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, stretching as she sat up. She watched as Rowan stalked over to his dresser and pulled out a tunic, raising an appreciative brow as she watched the muscles in his shoulders shift under scar speckled skin as he shrugged it on. 

She quickly turned away and stood, stepping into her slippers and tossing her robe over her arm. She strode towards the opening in the stone wall, needing to go and change into her own clothes for training that day. She also couldn’t be seen leaving Rowan’s suites in the morning.

“You better not be late,” Rowan said, stopping her before she could leave, in a tone that told her that if she did show up late, he would be pissed.

Aelin placed her hand on the cool, stone wall, looking over her shoulder at Rowan as he finished clasping his tunic. She raised a brow and sent him a feline smirk. “Oh, but Rowan… you’re so cute when you’re mad,”

She heard his vicious snarl as she ducked into the tunnels, her laughter echoing off the low, stone walls. She wondered when was the last time someone called Rowan Whitethorn, legendary immortal warrior, the most powerful pure-blooded Fae male in the world,  _ cute.  _ It was probably unwise to provoke him so early in the morning, but it was just so  _ fun.  _

Aelin would deal with the consequences of her teasing later, but she was smiling to widely to even worry about them now.

…

It was a brutally hot day. Not quite as humid as the summer days in Doranelle, but a dry heat that felt just as bad. Rowan wondered how Terrasen, a kingdom that had the most frigid winters than anywhere else he had ever been, managed to have summers this hot. 

Rowan gulped down water from the skein he had brought along while Aelin knelt by a little creek and splashed water in her face, trying to cool down. Her fingers went to the long braid swinging between her shoulder blades before she quickly untied it, throwing the messy, sweaty hair into a knot on the top of her head.

“There’s no way your hair is going to stay like that,” Rowan commented.

Aelin turned her face towards him, a few strands of her golden hair already falling down and resting on her flushed cheeks. “It’s not supposed to stay. I just wanted it off the back of my neck for a bit,”

“You’re going to stop in the middle of a battle and ask if they can wait while you get your hair off your neck?”

Aelin scoffed indignantly, standing and planting her hands on her hips. “Well, maybe I’ll just shear all mine off like you did!”

“I don’t think your vanity could handle you doing something like that,”

Aelin simply stuck her tongue out at him. Very princess-like indeed.

“Come on,” Rowan said, jerking his head back into the clearing. “Another hour and we’re finished,”

She threw her head back with a groan. “I’m exhausted, and it’s far too hot to be doing anything with fire!”

Rowan blinked slowly, as if to say,  _ Are you done? _

Aelin clenched her jaw.  _ Fine. One more hour. _

He supposed she had a right to be tired. They had been working on using her power on a large scale, creating huge barriers or walls, encircling the clearing with towers of flame. It had the potential to be useful in battle, or if Orynth came under siege. She could protect the whole city with her fire with a bit more practice. She didn’t complain as they finished the final hour, but, as they came up upon of edge of the Oakwald, she let out a mighty yawn.

“At least you’ll be too tired tonight to talk my ear off about some bit of court gossip,” Rowan said.

“That was a good story and you know it,” Aelin defended. 

“What are you going to do when I’m gone and you’ll need to find someone else to gossip to?”

Aelin froze as the words hit her, as what Rowan had said finally sank into him as well. He wouldn’t be here forever, he had less than a year left. He would have to leave Aelin and go back to Doranelle, a place Aelin couldn’t go. It was unlikely that he would ever be sent back to this continent either. It was a fact that upset him far more than he expected. No longer seeing her smile or hearing her wicked humor...

“It’s too early to be talking of such things,” Aelin whispered. 

“Aelin, I-”

“No,” she cut him off, shaking her head. She took a step closer to him, hands hovering for a moment above his chest, giving him the chance to back away if he wanted. When he didn’t, she placed her hands gently on his shoulders. “I don’t want to think of that. Not now,” ****  
** **

She wasn’t meeting his eye, he didn’t know what was going through her head. Rowan placed one hand on her hip, the other reaching up and cupping her jaw, angling her face towards him so that he could see those brilliant eyes. There was a sadness in them at first, a sight Rowan hated to see.

“Aelin…” he breathed, not quite knowing what to say to make her feel better, to get her to smile again. He squeezed her hip as his thumb began to skim tiny circles across her cheek. He heard her breath catch slightly, her fingers digging in his shoulders a bit harder.

He saw a shift in her eyes. She chewed at her bottom lip as she looked at him, something like hunger or want in her turquoise irises. He felt a flash of something similar go through him, jaw clenching in self-control. Was he reading her correctly? Was there desire in her eyes as she tilted her face up ever so slightly, eyes heavily hooded and lips parted. An offering, a-

Aelin gasped sharply, her fingers tightening almost painfully on his shoulders as her eyes grew wide. There was no longer any semblance of that hunger on her face, rather panic and pain. Rowan followed her gaze as it dropped from his face, lower, until he saw what had caused such a sudden shift.

The point of an iron-tipped arrow was protruding from her stomach.

The tang of her blood reach his nose as he watched the crimson stain on her white shirt expand.

Aelin whimpered as her knees gave out, Rowan catching her shoulders and guiding her to the ground so she wouldn’t get hurt any further. 

His world went quiet as he looked at that wound, his face cold with lethal calm hiding a burning rage. She was hurt and bleeding, Rowan could feel the phantom ache in his own gut that was lessened by his howling instincts. He scented the air, but couldn’t smell anything beyond Aelin and her blood. Good gods, someone had shot her with a rutting arrow. He was going to-

Aelin’s hand shot out to his arm, fingers bunching the sleeve of her tunic. Her breathing was labored but her eyes were filled with rage and determination as she spoke.

“Get. Him.” she hissed out through clenched teeth.

Rowan had never heard her use such a tone. Demanding, with no room for argument. The voice of a queen. 

She wanted him to find the would-be assassin that had stuck her with the arrow, and although part of him screamed in protest at leaving her side right now, while she was injured, she needed him to do this. He had to find whoever had fired that arrow, they couldn’t get away with hurting her.

It took every bit of effort to tear himself away from Aelin and take off through the trees in the direction the arrow had been fired from. The ancient trees were nothing but blurs to him as he flew through the forest, as fast as he had ever gone. His magic speared out, searching for whoever had shot the damned arrow. Eventually, it locked on to someone. They were running, not nearly as fast as him. Judging by the scent, mortal, male, terrified. He didn’t stand a chance.

Rowan could hear the man panting as he crashed through the underbrush. The Fae prince was finally close enough to reach him with his magic, tearing the air from his lungs. Rowan heard him choke and stumble, a loud thud as he hit the forest floor. 

It took everything in Rowan simply not to snap the man’s neck as he came upon him. The man writhed on the ground as he clawed at his throat, dark eyes wide and petrified as Rowan stood above him. He didn’t look like much, ruddy skin and beady eyes. Slight, good for sneaking, or killing, it would seem. The man’s eyes finally rolled into the back as his head as he went limp. Not dead, simply unconscious. Rowan hauled the man from the forest floor and began dragging him back to where he had left Aelin.

Rowan hated that his travel was slightly hindered by the piece of shit male he had to deliver to Orynth, where he would be locked up and await trial for his crime. The attempted assassination of the heir to the throne of Terrasen… the chances were that he would be hanged. 

Aelin wasn’t where he left her.

Rowan saw red as he scented the air, seeing if others had come and grabbed her, but it was only her scent in the clearing and the smell of her blood. Rowan looked down at the forest floor, finding a trail of deep crimson dripping from where she had been hit towards the gates of Orynth. She had walked back to the palace to get help.

Rowan marched through the front gates, eyes searching for the nearest guard. He could hear distant shouting from somewhere within the fortress. 

There was a young guard stationed along the wall. His face paled as Rowan stalked towards him, probably at the stormy fury written on his features.

Rowan shoved the assassin at the guard.

“He tried to kill the princess,” Rowan growled, watching as the guard grabbed manacles from his belt and began to put them on the man’s wrists. Once the Fae prince was sure that the assassin was contained and would be dealt with properly, he asked, “Where is she,”

The guard, though he still stunk of fear at an anger that was wasn’t directed at him, knew who Rowan referred to.

“They- they took the princess to the infirmary,”

Rowan took off almost before the words had left his mouth. He barely remembered the trip, only thinking about Aelin and how she was currently bleeding, in pain, judging by the dull ache in his own gut. It must have something to do with the  _ carranam  _ bond, but Rowan would ponder that later.

As Rowan got closer to the infirmary, he was able to hear the frantic voices of the healers.

“It was coated in an iron paint, it’s in her blood now,”

“We’re going to have to break the shaft,”

Rowan burst through the doors of the infirmary. The healers hardly noticed his presence, too busy running around the room, drawing water, grabbing bandages, mixing herbs. He expected them to try and shoo him out, not that Rowan would have that. Not when he saw Aelin on her side on a little bench, face screwed in pain as they cut away her blood-soaked shirt.  ****  
** **

Rowan was knelt at her size in an instant, taking her hand within his. Her eyes cracked open, still hazy with pain and blood-loss.

“Did you get him?” she rasped.

Rowan nodded, watching as a sense of relief passed over her.

“Brace yourself, your highness,” Poppy warned. “This will hurt,”

Rowan had seen arrows designed like this before, made so that it would cause more damage and pain pulling it out the way it came in. The only other option would be to snap the arrow in two, an experience that Rowan was familiar with, as well as the agony that came with it.

Aelin winced as the healer took the arrow into her hands and snapped it.

The princess screamed.

Itwas the worst sound he had ever heard.

****It took everything in Rowan not to shove away those women. His rational mind knew that they were just trying to help her, but their actions had caused her pain, and there were tears streaming down her face.

His own magic recoiled at the iron that coated the arrow. Whoever had orchestrated this assassination attempt taken into account Aelin’s magic and Fae blood, wanted to decrease the chances of her healing by her own magic or others.

Aelin gripped his hand so tightly it was nearly painful as the healers carefully slid the other half of the arrow from her gut. Judging by the positioning of the shot, hitting to the right of her stomach, it had avoided hitting any vital organs, but that didn’t stop her from bleeding profusely. There was a small pool of blood steadily growing under her. 

“You would think that whoever went through all the trouble of trying to kill me would hire an assassin with better aim,” Aelin breathed, voice faint as she struggled to stay conscious. 

“Now is not the time for jokes,” Rowan said, though she was right. There were so many vulnerable spot the assassin could have gone for that she may not have been able to heal from. Her chest, her throat… she wasn’t wearing any armor. It would have been so easy… but, the assassin must have stationed himself far away to avoid being detected by their Fae senses, and without the keen eyesight that Rowan and his companions possessed, either of those locations would have been difficult to hit.

“We can’t use our magic,” Poppy said to the other healers. “Not with that iron in the wound. The old fashioned way, then,”

“Keep your eyes open, Aelin,” Rowan urged as her lids began drooping, watching as the healers began grabbing the supplies needed for the procedure.

“I’m awake,” she slurred.

The healers pressed rags against her wounds, trying to slow the bleeding. Aelin hissed in discomfort, but held still. Once they had slowed the bleeding enough, they took away the bloodied rags and new healers came with something to disinfect the wound.

“This will sting, princess,” one warned, not waiting for Aelin to say anything before pouring the solution on the injury.

Aelin flinched and barked out a filthy curse, hiding her face in her arm. “Gods…” she moaned.

“You’re doing good, Aelin,” Rowan praised softly. 

Two healers took their place on either side of Aelin and began stitching up her wounds. Her face was screwed in discomfort, but, to her credit, she didn’t jump or squirm as the needles pricked her skin. Rowan held her hand through the entire thing, as the healers finished the stitches and snipped the thread, as they applied some mixture of herbs to the wound and began wrapping her torso in thick, white bandages. 

The healers helped her sit up with gentle hands. Aelin moved slowly, lips tight and brows furrowed at the effort. They brought a clay cup to her lips, some kind of tonic for the pain, urging her to take a few sips.

“You lost a lot of blood, princess,” Poppy said, eyes scanning over Aelin’s pale face with concern. “But, the arrow didn’t puncture any organs. With a bit or rest and watching the wound so it doesn’t get infected, you’ll be fine,”

Aelin blinked groggily. “Thank you,” 

Poppy bowed her head. “Rest now, princess. I expect your family will be here soon,”

Aelin inhaled deeply as the healer meandered away, leaving Rowan alone with her. His hand still held hers, but Aelin didn’t seem inclined to let go any time soon.

“Someone just tried to kill me…” she whispered, as if she didn’t quite believe it. 

Rowan ground his teeth at the thought, and instead on being angry, simply asked, “How do you feel?”

“Tired…” Aelin murmured. “The iron… I’ve never felt anything like that. It was like my very soul recoiled. I know it was able to stifle my healing abilities… but even my fires feel further away. I could still reach them if I wanted to, it would just be more difficult,”

“Iron is a nasty thing,” Rowan said. “Having your entire well of magic smother by iron… it feels like your body rebelling against you,”

Aelin shivered. “I’m in no rush to experience that,”

Her head leaned back, eyes fluttering shut. She was exhausted.

“Rest, Aelin,” Rowan murmured. 

She didn’t have the energy to answer, but he heard her breathing even out. He didn’t want to leave Aelin’s side, not when she was this vulnerable, but soon her family and friends would be rushing to her side. He would let the healers deal with the barrage of questions they would surely have. For now, there was a man in the dungeons who he needed to visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> new chapter for yall! managed to get some fluff and drama in there. hope you guys enjoyed! tell me what yall think, I love it hear it! <3


	24. Chapter 24

Rowan didn’t touch the man. It wasn’t his place to, unless it was asked by him of Orlon. The Fae prince had experience with torturing information out of people, he was rather good at it at this point. So, he knew that the fear of waiting was always effective.

Rowan had simply sat in a low stool before the bars of the man’s tiny cell, waiting for him to wake. When the man’s eyes finally began to peel open, Rowan was the first thing that he saw. 

The Fae prince waited to speak, letting the man stew in his own fear. He knew who sat across from him, what he was capable of. And, though the man was scared, he was stubborn too. When Rowan deigned to begin asked questions, the man kept his mouth shut. Wouldn’t answer anything, not even a name, face blank and impassive as it could be. He had probably been trained to not crack in interrogations nor under torture.

Rowan finally grew tired of hearing himself talk. He had been down in the musty dungeons for long enough. He stood to leave, to head back to the infirmary and check on Aelin again, but was stopped when the man in the cell finally spoke.

“I knew that you were training the princess…” the man slowly drawled. There was an infuriating smirk on his face when Rowan looked back at him. “Didn’t know you were fucking her, too,”

Rowan glared at the man, but didn’t bother wasting his breath arguing.

“Sorry for the interruption,” the man continued, obviously pleased to see he was getting under Rowan’s skin. “She looked about ready to let you have it right there and then. She's a pretty little thing, looks like fun,”

The silver-haired prince had heard enough, turning heel and leaving the man behind. His dark laughter echoed after him, ringing in his ears even after he had exited the damp, miserable dungeons.

"If you get tired of her, you can send her my way!" the man cackled as Rowan left him in the dark.

The assassin was wrong, of course. That’s not what their relationship was like… but  _ if  _ he hadn’t interrupted that moment, if Aelin had closed the distance between them and brushed her lips against his… what would he have done? Would he have pulled her against him, tangled his hands in her hair? Had there truly been lust in her eyes? Would the princess allowed him to press her up against one of the ancient oaks, haul her legs around his waist and press his hips against hers? Rowan wanted to think he would have enough self-control to avoid taking her for the first time against a tree but… he didn’t know how that would have played out.

If there had been anything good about the situation, it would be that it prevented either of them from doing something foolish. 

Aelin had been moved from the healer’s compound to her rooms in the few fruitless hours he had been with the assassin.

Her door was cracked open when he arrived, allowing him a glimpse inside. Aedion was sat in a plush armchair that he had pulled to the side of her bed, resting his elbows on his knees. Aelin was asleep, skin still pale, golden hair fanned out below her. They had changed her into a white nightgown, long sleeves to fight away the chill that came from losing so much blood.

Rowan lightly tapped his knuckles on the door, alerting the Ashryver prince of his presence. He glanced back as Rowan stepped into the room, coming to the side of her bed.

“How is she?” 

Aedion sighed and leaned back in the chair. “Weak. In pain. The healers gave her tonic to help, but it really ends up putting her right to sleep. They say she’s on bedrest for a week while she heals and the iron leaves her system. Hopefully by then, they’ll be able to use their magic to finish what her body hasn’t completed on it’s own,” 

He trailed off into silence, nothing but the sound of Aelin’s breaths and the crackling fire to fill the air. 

“How,” Aedion said at length, causing Rowan to look at him with furrowed brows. A muscle feathered in the Ashryver boy’s jaw as his turquoise eyes flashed to him.

“How, what?” Rowan asked slowly.

“How…” Aedion began again, unfurling to his full-height, looking Rowan in the eyes with nothing but fury. “How could you let this happen?”

Rowan did not care for the tone the prince used, cocking his head to the side as he assessed his tense shoulders and balled fists. “As far as I’m aware, prince, I did not fire that arrow,”

“You were right by the gates. You’re a legendary warrior, the most powerful Fae male in the world, and you couldn’t stop some half-rate, mortal assassin from sticking Aelin with an iron-coated arrow,” Aedion leaned in close, before snarling in his face, “You couldn’t stop it,”

“That’s enough,”

Their heads whipped to the bed, finding that Aelin had awoken. She pushed herself into a sitting position with weak arms, looking towards her cousin, no amusement on her face.

“You know damn well this wasn’t Rowan’s fault,” she said evenly. “And you’re an absolute prick for suggesting it,”

“Aelin,” her cousin started, but was cut off when she simply raised a hand.

“You can go now. I’ll see you tomorrow,” the princess said in a tone that suggested he didn’t try and argue. 

Aedion pursed his lips, pissed by the dismissal, but surprisingly didn’t argue it. He brushed past Rowan through the doors, shutting them behind him with more force than necessary. The princess glared at the door for a heartbeat longer before she turned her attention towards him, face softening. 

“You do know he’s full of shit, right?” Aelin asked, quirking a brow.

Rowan wanted to say yes, but part of him saw some truth in Aedion’s words. Perhaps he should have been able to prevent it, should have been focusing more on his surroundings and less on the princess. Maybe she wouldn’t be bed-ridden, then, wouldn’t be in pain. Perhaps then, he wouldn’t have felt the greatest panic he had ever experienced in his life.

“Rowan…” Aelin said softly when he didn’t respond. “It’s  _ not  _ your fault. Aedion’s just pissy that he wasn’t there and couldn’t beat the shit out of the guy.”

“I went to see him,” the Fae prince said. “The assassin,”

Aelin blinked, scooting over on her bed to give Rowan a place to sit. He lowered himself next to the princess, shoulder against shoulder.

“Did he say anything?” Aelin asked.

Rowan shook his head, unwilling to tell her about the snide comments he had made at his departure. “Nothing. No reasoning, not who he worked for… but, it was only for a few hours, and I didn’t lay a finger on him,”

Aelin hummed and rested her head on his shoulder. “I want to see him… in a few days, when I’m feeling better,”

“Are you sure?” Rowan asked.

A nod. “I want to look into his face,”

If that was what she wished, then fine. “I’ll go with you, if you want,”

The corners of her lips tugged upwards, grabbing his hand and squeezing. “Thank you… for everything,”

Rowan raised a brow in question.

“Just… being there today,” Aelin further explained. “I was scared. I’ve never been injured like that before… but I was less scared when you were by me,”

“You handled it well,” Rowan praised. “And you’ll have a mighty scar to prove that you made it through,”

Aelin let out a short laugh. “I suppose I will,”

…

Five days passed, Aelin enduring the bedrest and the constant changing of her bandages. Her stitches itched her endlessly, but she managed to keep from messing with them, lest she end up tearing them and having to endure wasting away in bed much longer.

Her friends spent time with her, helping to make the days go by faster. Aedion apologized to Rowan for the foul things he had said, much to Aelin’s satisfaction. 

But, she felt strength return to her body as the days wore on. Soon, her stitches would be out, and then the healers would observe her for a bit longer to ensure she was ready before she could go back to training with Rowan.

The Fae prince spent much of his time lingering about her rooms, making sure she was comfortable, bringing her food or books if she wished. The way he fussed made her laugh, but she wouldn’t lie and say she didn’t enjoy having him at her beck and call. Though he did snarl whenever he heard someone approach the door, either her chambermaids or a healer come to bring her another tonic. Territorial Fae Bastard. 

Eventually, she felt ready to leave her rooms and to see the face of the man who had tried to kill her. She would have to do it discretely, since the healers didn’t want her on her feet yet and Aedion and Orlon would lose it if they knew she went to speak to the would-be assassin alone.

But, she wouldn’t be alone. Rowan would be with her.

He had acted more mother hen than Fae as she readied herself. It was late, the halls empty so no one would try to stop her as she descended down the fortress. Aelin had donned one of her finer dresses, having Rowan help her lace up the back as gently as he could without bothering her wounds. She wanted to appear strong, to show him that his attempt hadn’t harmed her, that she was still a powerful magic user and heir to the most powerful kingdom on the continent. 

Rowan cast her concerned looks as they made their way down the halls, as if any moment her legs would give out and she would collapse to the stone floors. Aelin felt fine. Perhaps moving her torso in certain ways was painful, but besides that, fine. 

Aelin hated the cells at the base of the fortress. The air was always wet and held a bit of a chill to it that seeped into her very bones, despite the summer heat. She had only been down there a handful of times, mostly on dares by Aedion. 

There were only the worst of the worst criminals that were wicked enough to get locked up under Orynth. Serial murderers, rapists, arsonists, abusers… those are who called and crooned at her as she walked down the walls of cells.

“Firebringer,” they would call tauntingly, reaching gangly hands between the gaps of the bars. “Princess of ashes,”

Aelin faltered as fingers snagged on her skirts, looking down at the filthy face of a balding man, smiling at her with a mouth full of rotten, brown stumps. “Stay awhile, princess. We’d have fun, you and I,”

Rowan’s snarl seemed to shake the very walls, the man jumping back and releasing her skirts. The whispers died down as Rowan’s warning echoed across the stone.

The would-be assassin was kept in a sectioned off cell, two guards stationed at the door that led to his prison. The men opened the door upon seeing their princess coming towards them, opening it wide for her to step through. Perhaps one of them would have insisted on being in there with her, if Rowan wasn’t trailing behind her. She was in capable hands.

Aelin stepped before the bars as the door squeaked close behind them. The man was laying on a small bench covered in a thin layer of old hay. He sat up upon hearing them enter.

Aelin’s face was schooled into practiced neutrality. She had prepared herself to project the image of a strong ruler, powerful and unbothered, until she scented the air, and everything seemed to freeze. 

Mixed with with the smell of must and mold, there was a familiar scent, and scent that had haunted her for a year, the scent of a ghost she never found. 

“You,” Aelin hissed, composure breaking instantly as the man looked at her with confused, beady eyes. “It was you! You… you killed him!”

The man blinked lazily, standing and stretching. “You’re going to have to be more specific, princess.”

Aelin took another step towards the cold bars. “One year ago, you and two other men killed a boy and left his mutilated body in an empty warehouse,” she inhaled deeply, trying to compose herself before she ended up lighting the entire room on fire.

He had the nerve to ponder who it could be, but flinched back as Aelin slammed her palms against the bars, rattling the metal loudly in the silence of the night.

“Sam. Cortland.”

She knew Rowan was lingering behind her, could practically feel his surprised gaze on her back. 

“That little runt?” the man in the cell laughed bitterly.

“Why,” Aelin bit out. “Why did you do it?”

“We caught word that he was planning on leaving before he paid off his debts, fell in love with some pit-brawling bitch,” he explained. “Arobynn wanted to make an example of him,”

The princess stumbled back a few feet as the question that had haunted her for the past year was finally answered. Arobynn had orchestrated Sam’s murder because they had been planning on running away together.

The assassin, part of the same guild that Sam had been part of Aelin now knew, tilted his head to the side as he studied the princess, taking a few steps closer to the bars. She could see him thinking as he put the pieces together, the timing, the fact that a princess would know of the murder of a lowly assassin.

“Wait a minute…” the man said, before barking out a laugh. “It was you, wasn’t it? The princess of Terrasen was the pit-brawler.  _ You  _ were Celaena Sardothien! Arobynn had been very interested in you, princess, but you disappeared before he could convince you to work with us,”

Aelin focused on her breathing as he continued to talk, as his brows narrowed and jaw clenched.

“That means you’re the bitch that killed Harding and Mullin! I wondered who could have managed to decimate them so badly,” 

Aelin willed the tears not to fall, not to show any vulnerability before this scum, but he didn’t stop, not when he saw how his words hurt her.

“We took our time with Cortland,” the man said, creeping closer to the bars. “He managed to put up a good fight ‘till we got the gloriella in him. Even then, he held in there, for hours and hours… waiting, it would seem, for you. But you never came,”

The man cried out as Rowan moved too swiftly for him to react. The Fae prince grabbed his throat, pulling him against the bars hard enough to break the skin on his forehead. He cursed colorfully, glaring at Rowan’s canines that were far too close to his face. His green eyes flickered towards her, awaiting judgement. She gave a barely perceivable shake of the head and Rowan dropped him.

“I should kill you,” Aelin began slowly. “I want to, just like I did to your friends. Make it slow, make it hurt…” the man had the good sense to look frightened as Aelin spoke, at the cold rage in her eyes, scooting away from the bars. “But I don’t think I will. But, you won’t be granted a quick, clean death either. You’ll rot in here, no food, no water, no company until Hellas takes your piece of shit soul. Might as well get comfortable in here. It’s the last place you’ll see,”

Aelin let her words linger in the air a bit longer before turning and breezing out of the cell. Rowan walked beside her down the rows of cells as the guards locked the assassin’s door once again. There were no whispers from the prisoners as they left, sheltering themselves in the corners of their cells as she walked by.

Aelin managed to keep herself composed the entire walk back to her rooms, but the moment the doors swung shut behind her and Rowan, she shattered. A pathetic sob tore from her throat as she threw herself at Rowan, digging her face into his chest as his arms wrapped around her. She cried into his chest as Rowan guided them to the bed, whispering words of comfort as they laid down. 

She had thought she had gotten better, had accepted what happened, but seeing one of the men that killed Sam, hearing him talk about it… it had torn open a wound she thought had healed. Hearing that he had persevered for so long, suffering all that pain, waiting for  _ her…  _ and she had been too late. Far too late.

“It’s my fault,” Aelin gasped desperately into Rowan’s tunic. “It’s my fault,”

Rowan pulled back far enough to look at her blotchy face. “Gods no, Aelin. It isn’t,”

“I-It was my idea to run away,” she blubbered pathetically. “If- if I hadn’t said anything-”

“Gods, Aelin,” he sighed, cradling her face firmly but tenderly. “You know damn well that it’s not your fault. What would Sam think if he heard you talking like that?”

A choked sob was her only response. He was right, of course. Sam wouldn’t want to hear her talking like that, but it didn’t stop the painful guilt twisting in her chest.

Her cries shifted to sniffles sometime in the night before she had spent her tears and felt nothing but exhaustion. She fell asleep to the feel of Rowan rubbing his hand down her hair and the beat of his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a shorter chapter, but I hope you guys liked it! Yall seemed to like the last chapter a lot, which I'm glad because I really liked writing it! Because this chapter was so short, yall can expect an early update because I got a lot of writing done today. I reached a scene that I had been super excited about writing so it just flowed and I can promise I got some good stuff coming!!;)  
> ik it seems like im leave a lot of loose ends in this story, but I promise they will be all tied up! just gotta wait for the right moment and all yalls questions will be answered.  
> Also! we hit 7000 views and 600 kudos! thank you guys so much for the support!  
> keep hitting me with what yall are thinking! I love reading your thoughts and theories!!


	25. Chapter 25

Two days later, Aelin’s stitches were removed. The healers had her stretch and move to ensure everything felt right, and it did. There was no more pain, nothing except a bit of white, puckered skin where she now bore a scar. Still, the healers wanted her to take another day to rest before returning to training. She could manage that.

But, she didn’t think she could spend another minute in her bed.

She decided to spend her last day of rest curled up in a little loveseat in the library with a new book Dorian had sent her, thinking it was in her taste. It was, and she could barely stand to put in down.

She kept a flame that didn’t melt the candle wax (so she wouldn't have to pause her reading to get a new one when it melted to a stump) burning beside her as she read. She was just getting to a good part, the two forbidden lovers were standing on a secluded beach as the raging sun dipped into the water, both reluctant to confess what they truly felt. Aelin was hardly blinking as her wide eyes devoured the words, chewing on her thumbnail in anticipation. 

“Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

Aelin jumped slightly, too engrossed in her book to hear anyone come her way. She tore her gaze away from her book to find Rowan looking at her with furrowed brows.

“I wanted a little change of scenery,” Aelin said, placing a slip of parchment in her book to mark her page.  

“I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to be on bedrest for another day,”

“And I’m pretty sure you’re not my nursemaid,” 

Rowan let out a sharp bark of laughter before peering over her shoulder at the book she was reading, but Aelin pulled it against her chest and hid the title before Rowan would tease her for her tastes. When it became clear that she wouldn’t show him, Rowan merely huffed and circled the loveseat, pushing Aelin’s feet to the side she he could claim the spot beside her. The princess immediately draped her legs over Rowan once he settled in, since she had been there first. 

“I didn’t know you knew where the library was,” Aelin teased. 

“I’ve had a lot of free time since I didn’t have to bother training you for the past week,” Rowan said. “The library of Orynth is the largest on the continent. I supposed I should do something productive,”

“Oh? Like what?”

A shrug. “Research,”

Aelin made a face. That was definitely not how she would spend her free time if she could help it. 

“If you’re going to sit here, then be quiet so I can focus,” Aelin said sternly.

“Read to me,”

Aelin blinked in surprise. “I don’t think you’ll much like this one,”

His head cocked to the side. “How do you know what I like to read?”

The princess huffed, but gave in, cracking open her book and tucking her bookmark under her skirts. She made herself comfortable as she skimmed the page, searching for the part she left off at. She cleared her throat as she found the paragraph and began to read.

“ _ Katryna gazed deeply into Fynn’s eyes, at the desire that welled more powerfully than the waves that crashed on the shore at their feet. As the sun dipped below the horizon, he swept her up in his arms and pressed his lips against her own. Her core burned as he laid her down on the warm sands, peeling off her thin gown, hands trailing over bare skin- _ ”

“ _ This  _ is what you read?” Rowan cut her off, distaste written on his features.

“You’re the one who wanted me to read to you,” Aelin said.

“Well, I didn’t think you’d be reading smut!”

“Did you think I’d be reading ancient poetry?” Aelin questioned. “Because, and I hate to ruin it for you, all poetry is about sex,”

Rowan sighed and hid his face in his hand, rubbing at his temples. Aelin held in a laugh at his expression, but he had brought this on himself. 

“Do you want me to continue?” Aelin asked, holding up the book and smirking like a fiend.

“No. No I do not,”

…

The summer slugged on with oppressive heat and massive thunderstorms. Aelin jumped back into training, frustrated with how slowly Rowan worked her back into it, as if she would get hurt again. She was perfectly fine, as she would snap at him on multiple occasions when she felt he wasn’t trying his hardest.

But, a month passed since her return to training. Her uncle agreed with the sentence passed on the assassin, who rotted away in his cell. Even when he begged for food, he wouldn’t give them any more information than he offered when he was taunting her. Wouldn’t say who had ordered the attack on the princess, if he even knew. Perhaps the only person who knew was Arobynn Hamel himself.

She would have him killed one day for what he did, but it couldn’t be hasty, not with a man like him. He had resources, enough that Sam had been frightened of what he could do to Aelin and her court. She would be prepared when she made the strike on him.

For now, she would train. 

Something had shifted in her after injury. Aelin didn’t know if it had something to do with allowing herself to get hurt, the fact that she had left herself so vulnerable, but she had become more determined, more serious about her training. Every move she made was as if her life was on the line. 

She and Rowan sparred in the blazing heat, magic against magic. Aelin didn’t know how long they had been going for, nor did she care as the embers in her blood jumped in excitement at the use. Little shards of sharp ice flew her direction, courtesy of Rowan. She would dodge the ones she could, shielding away the others, bobbing and twisting and weaving through the clearing.

Her heart pounded against her ribcage as she sent a punch of flame Rowan’s direction. He side-stepped it easily.

Aelin could feel pearls of sweat running down her face, but it was also dotting Rowan’s brow. She wasn’t the only one feeling the strain of their fight.

She saw a flash in his eyes just in time, knowing he was about to rush at her, but his plan was thwarted when she placed a small wall of flame between them. Rowan hesisted to avoid being burned, which allowed Aelin to lead the charge. She burst through her own flames, sending her knee flying into Rowan’s gut. He stumbled slightly, but didn’t falter, still batting away her next onslaught of attacks.

Aelin let out a cry of effort as she sent a mighty wave of flames at Rowan. He managed to shield it, her fires breaking upon the wall of hard air as if they truly were water. They flowed all around them, up to the skies, to their sides, back at Aelin, but they didn’t burn her as she marched through them.

She jabbed a fire-coated fist at his face, but he was able to block it before it made contact. She could feel the flames on her arms licking up almost to her shoulders, but they didn’t burn her, no. They were a delicious kind of heat.

Rowan swept for her legs, but she moved out of the way just in time. 

The princess slashed her arm through the air, and arc of crimson flames cutting right over Rowan’s head. The Fae prince bobbed to avoid his hair most likely being singed off, but as he ducked down, Aelin kicked out, her foot catching his chest. He fell back onto the forest floor as Aelin lunged after him, and, in one fluid motion, unsheathed the Fae blade from her thigh and pressed the edge against Rowan’s throat as she hovered over him.

Neither of them moved, both panting with sweat dripping into their eyes. Aelin knew there was still a snarl on her face, teeth bared as Rowan’s eyes froze on her face. She was just about to growl at him, ask why he stopped, when she realized.

She had her knife to his throat.

She had won.

Aelin blinked, aggression wiping from her face to be replaced with surprise. Her lips parted as she tried to calm her breathing.

“Did- did I…?” she whispered, still not believing what she was seeing.

Rowan’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, careful not to make too sudden a movement, since her wickedly sharp blade was still pressed against him. “You did it. You won,”

Aelin let out a sound that was a mix between a short laugh and a gasp. She took the blade from Rowan’s throat and leaned back, placing a hand against the side of her face as it all sank in. She had bested Rowan Whitethorn. After years and years of learning and struggling, of getting thrown to the ground and pissed off, she had triumphed.

“I won,” Aelin gasped, still not quite believing it. She went to her feet, eyes still wide in shock. “I- I won! And no one was here! No one- no one saw it!”

Rowan laughed from beside her.

“Nobody…” Aelin breathed as her eyes darted around the clearing. “Nobody is going to believe me! Gods damn it! Damn it!”

“I’ll vouch for you,” Rowan promised.

“They’ll just think I coerced you into lying for me!” Aelin groaned. “Aedion won’t believe it until he sees it!”

Rowan let her bemoan her situation for a bit longer before she got it out of her system. Once Aelin had stopped complaining and lapsed into silence, Rowan spoke.

“You did well. I’m proud of you,”

Aelin turned slowly to look at him, finding nothing but sincerity in his eyes. She had worked hard to get to this moment, and he recognized that. Without his help, Aelin wouldn’t be where she was today. She shuddered to think of how her training might have gone if it hadn’t been with Rowan. 

“Thank you,” Aelin said earnestly. “For everything,”

The corners of his lips twitched up before he sighed. “You’re welcome… but don’t get used to it, though,”

“Used to what?”

“Winning,” Rowan stated. “You still have room for improvement,”

Aelin scoffed and stuck her tongue out at him, though she knew he was right. Winning once didn’t mean anything, and Rowan was a purebred warrior. She would probably be back to being thrown on her ass by that time tomorrow. But, she would savor this victory today, and probably for a long time coming. 

…

The northern airs began to cool as summer trudged along into fall. The mornings were bitingly cold, but the afternoons bearable. Aelin knew that in a few months, the snows would begin coating the sprawling terrain of Terrasen, leading them to a bitterly cold winter wrought with blizzards and cold fingers. She wasn’t looking forward to training in that.

But, for now, she could appreciate the cooler weather and the seasonal foods, the warm, sweet aromas of the candles burning in the halls. She did enjoy the fall greatly.

Samhuinn crept up, the palace preparing a grand feast for the occasion. Aelin had been able to smell the meats and vegetables cooking all day, driving her crazy with hunger. She didn’t know how she would be able to control herself when the sun set and the food was placed before her. She would have to make sure she kept her manners, no matter how badly she simply wanted to shovel it down her throat. 

Training with Rowan was cut short that day, as it tended to be on occasions where Aelin was needed as princess. She was always expected at balls and feasts, to be a shining leader of Terrasen, the picture of strength and youth next to her steadily weakening uncle.

Samhuinn wasn’t a holiday Aelin particularly enjoyed. The idea of the dead being so close to the living, whether with good intentions of malicious, unnerved her. She never wandered alone on Samhuinn, too frightened of who, or  _ what _ , might find her… not that she would ever admit that she was spooked by ghost stories. She’d rather not tempt fate nor the gods on a night like this.

At least Rowan would be attending the feast tonight. She barely had to put in any effort into convincing him this time. Maybe she was just getting better at it.

Her ladies dressed her in a thick gown of a blue so deep it was nearly black, little silver beads scattered in the bodice. Aelin thought it looked like the night sky. They twisted her hair up around one of her more simple tiaras, framing her face and placing diamond earrings in her lobes before dying her lips a light shade of red. Nothing over the top for tonight, but Aelin didn’t mind. That wasn’t what tonight was about.

On Samhuinn, she and Aedion and Ren used to gather around the bonfires and whisper ghost stories to one another, jokingly calling upon spirits, trying their best to frighten one another… but recently, Aelin saw this night as another to silently mourn. Her parents, Sam, Aedion’s mother… that was all she could think of. 

But, she would take her time tonight to think of them. For now, she would smile and laugh with the ones she loved, reminding herself how lucky she was to have them in her life.

The great hall was lit by warm torch light, burning fires raging in the hearths to heat the room in the cold, autumn nights. The sounds of laughter and silverware scraping upon plates rose over the steady murmur of jolly voices as they gorged themselves on the delightful feast that had been prepared.

Elide’s parents had made the trip to Orynth for the holiday. It had been too long since Aelin had seen them, especially Marion who had treated her like a second daughter. Elide’s mother had been best friends with Aelin’s, and she could see the glimmer of happiness in Marion’s gaze as she watched the princess and her daughter smiling and laughing together, as she had once done with Evalin. Aelin knew her mother’s loss lingered with more than just her. 

Aelin smiled and laughed and charmed all throughout dinner, dessert, and after-dessert wine. There were talks of the royal family of Adarlan coming to Terrasen next season. Aelin knew Dorian would hate all the snow and complain about the cold until she threatened to kick him out. 

Aelin didn’t miss the pointed looks some of the lords and advisors sent her when they mentioned the crown prince of Adarlan. She could tell they were looking at her and imagining a marriage alliance between her and Dorian. It was an idea that seemed to pop up once or twice a year, but never came to fruition. 

She supposed, out of everyone, marrying Dorian wouldn’t be bad. He was a good friend of hers, and she did greatly enjoy his company. Besides, Adarlan and Terrasen share a border. She wouldn’t be too far from home. 

Aelin sighed and took a long drought of wine. She would think of that later.

Rowan caught her eye from across the table, raising a brow as if to say,  _ Are you alright? _

_ Fine. Just tired. _

She never really got a chance to speak with Rowan at these events, both of them swarmed by others who wanted to use the rare opportunity to talk them up where they really couldn’t escape. Aelin could get over it. She saw him everyday as it was.

Just before midnight, Aelin stood and excused herself, feigning exhaustion. She placed a kiss on her uncle’s forehead, bidding farewell to her friends that weren’t buried in conversation. Rowan was speaking to one of the rare Fae dignitaries that had arrived from one of the villages scattered through Terrasen. Aelin had been pushing in meetings to better relations between the Fae and the mortal humans, especially since a demi-Fae sat poised to take the throne. Aelin didn’t want to interrupt, so she quietly slipped away.

…

Rowan didn’t know when the princess had left the halls, only noticing when he glanced up from a conversation and found her seat empty and her plates cleared away. Her court still lingered, drinking and laughing amongst themselves. He didn’t want to interrupt their merriment. 

When Rowan felt as though it was polite to excuse himself, he did.

The halls were starkly quiet in comparison to the voices that rumbled in the great hall. The torches that lined the stone walls grew dimmer and dimmer as the night wore on. Mixed in with the smell of the food from dinner, and the ashes of the flames, was Aelin’s scent. He half expected it to lead to her rooms, perhaps wanting to retire early, but it didn’t. It twisted down the halls, in the opposite direction.

Rowan trailed after it. Perhaps she wanted to be alone, and if that were the case, he would let her be. But for now… his feet seemed to move on their own accord.

As he got closer, he heard the sound of the pianoforte being played lazily. Just the stumbling melody, no chords behind it. It was a melancholy sound.

The door to the parlor was open a few inches, a beam of orange light cutting through the opening and spilling onto the floor. Rowan peered inside, finding the princess seated at the pianoforte, her back to him. She had taken off her tiara and placed it on the gleaming surface of the instrument as her fingers skipped over the keys. She had a large fire lit in the hearth to warm the spacious room.

“I know you’re there,” Aelin spoke without turning around. “You can come in, you know,”

Rowan took a step into the room, inching closer to where Aelin sat. Her bright eyes stared unblinkingly at the black and white keys below her fingers, but they no longer danced across the ivory. Rowan lowered himself on to the bench beside her, wishing she would look at him. 

“Are you alright?” he asked at length, hoping she would tell him what was on her mind.

Aelin nodded. “Yeah, I’m okay. It’s just… Samhuinn sets my nerves on edge,”

“I didn’t peg you as a superstitious type,”

“You  _ don’t  _ believe in ghosts, spirits and gods?” Aelin asked, finally turning to him with a teasing look on her face.

“I didn’t say that,” Rowan countered, head tilting to the side. “Do you really think there are spirits here tonight?”

Aelin shrugged. “I-I don’t know. And I honestly don’t know if that would be something I’d dread or pray for,”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, the spirits could be evil and wish us harm,” Aelin began. “Or, the spirits could be those of the ones we’ve loved and lost, come to look over us when they have a chance… sometimes I don’t know which idea frightens me more,” 

“Why would the thought of your loved ones watching you be a bad thing?”

Aelin inhaled deeply, eyes slightly glazed as she stared straight ahead, through that massive window, to the landscape saturated with the cold light of the moon. Her lips tightened a fraction of an inch as she contemplated her words. 

“I don’t want them to see someone they don’t recognize, or that they’re disappointed in,” she explained. “I don’t want them to look at me and feel… sad.”

Rowan was silent. Her fears were valid ones. He wondered what Lyria would think if she had seen him in the past centuries, cold and closed off, slow to smile or laugh. He couldn’t help but think she would have felt sorrow at the way he had been living… but perhaps now, now that things had gotten better, he supposed… Lyria could look down at him and smile.

“If you could say something to them, your parents and Sam, anything,” Rowan whispered. “What would it be?”

Aelin didn’t say anything for a few moments, hands falling into her lap and curling into her skirts. “I would tell my parents that I miss them everyday, that I’m trying every day to live up to the legacy that they’ve created, that I want to make them proud,” her voice broke at the end, head tilted upwards as her eyes welled. “And Sam… I would tell him that I loved him, since I never did get the chance to let him know,”

Rowan grabbed one of her hands and squeezed firmly enough that Aelin looked at him again. “He knows…”

The princess managed a tiny smile at that. “And you? If you could say something to Lyria?”

Rowan simply looked at Aelin, at her face bathed in the warm glow of the fire. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had asked him about her, had been able to look him in the eyes and utter her name. He knew that others were frightened of how he would react, but Aelin knew him better than that. At his hesitation, she gave his hand a squeeze in return, a sign that it was okay to tell her anything.

“I would tell her that I’m sorry,” Rowan said. “Sorry that I wasn’t there for her when she needed me, and that I wish I had done things differently,”

A tiny smile. “She knows,”

They drifted into silence, remembering the ones they loved and lost, providing strength in one another’s company. Rowan didn’t know how long they sat there in the quiet as the moon crept up the deep, starry sky, Deanna watching in on them through the open window.

Eventually, Rowan turned to the princess, eyes skimming over her graceful profile. He lifted their intertwined fingers and placed them on the cool keys of the pianoforte.

“Show me,”

Aelin blinked and raised a brow.

“Show me how to play,” Rowan expanded, nodding towards the beautiful instrument. 

“In three hundred years of life, you never learned how to play the pianoforte? Really, Rowan, how embarrassing,” Aelin teased. 

Rowan nudged her shoulder with his own as Aelin eventually stopped giggling to herself and looked at him, studying his face to ensure he was serious. Rowan guessed she deemed it good enough, because she turned back to the keys.

“Well then, I suppose we should start simple. These are the notes...”

The night melted into day as music and laughter flowed from the little parlor, and they felt happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we hit 100k words!  
> I told yall to expect an early update and here it is! I hope you all liked it.  
> And, yes, I was alluding to the assassin being Tern! Good catch!  
> I hope you all are still enjoying the painfully slow slow burn. But, I keep this story written like 30k words in advance and I'm about to write some REALLY good shit yall I PROMISE your wishes will be fulfilled.


	26. Chapter 26

Aelin hated sitting through meetings. She hadn’t had to do it often since Rowan had arrived back to Terrasen. Before his return, her uncle had her sitting in for nearly every meeting or counseling session that was held. It was for practice for her future role as queen, seeing how it was done. At first, Orlon just had her observing, but she soon began to inject her opinions. 

From her earliest negotiations, she had been trying to build stronger ties between the Fae villages scattered through their territory and the court of Terrasen. For too long, the Fae on her continent have been isolated. For too long has there been fear, creating mistrust and prejudice among the two people. 

The only reason Aelin was sitting through this meeting and not training was because Orlon was traveling through Terrasen’s territories, meting with the lords and the ladies and looking over the lands. So, she was here in his stead, listening to the advisors and courtiers and generals speak.

“I don’t think you really understand, princess…” one advisor began.

“No, you’re right, I don’t,” Aelin sighed lazily in an attempt to hide how she wanted to burn his hair off for patronizing her. “I really don’t see what’s so hard about it!”

“The Fae hardly deign to travel to the fortress,” he continued.

“Perhaps it’s because we never reach out to them,” 

“The Fae have been content to live amongst themselves for centuries. They don’t like to fraternize with humans,”

“Oh, really?” Aelin drawled with deadly calm, pulling her top lip back from her teeth and flashing elongated canines. “Then how exactly did I come to be?”

A silence draped over the room, no one daring to meet her eye. She didn’t know what was so hard about this, it wasn’t as though she was asking for funding or raising taxes… she just wished to improve relations. She figured they were just hesitant because they didn’t understand the Fae, that they were frightened of things they didn’t quite know. Perhaps they were raised on stories of the Fae being dangerous, vicious tricksters. Perhaps they looked at males like Rowan Whitethorn and thought of throes of warriors just as powerful and intimidating. The Fae no longer tricked mortals, that was all faerie tales now. Besides, the Fae on her continent were… different than those of Doranelle, powerful warriors like Rowan and Fenrys. They were more content to sing and frolic, use their magics for farming rather than fighting.

“I want invitations sent out the all the Fae villages,” Aelin said. “For the Yulemas ball,”

There were murmurs of agreement. It was a small request to make happen.  ****  
** **

Through the smugness of getting what she desired to happen, she felt a tug on her magic. Her brows scrunched slightly as her eyes flickered upwards towards a high, open window, keen eyes spotting a white-tailed hawk lingering on the ledge. 

Rowan. Probably bored without her to train and decided to eavesdrop. Nosy buzzard. She refrained from sticking her tongue out at him. 

“Moving on to the next matter…” one of the elder generals said, shifting through a small pile of paper. His face was grave as he chewed on his words. “There have been whispers of a divide between the Ironteeth witches, an internal war. I didn’t know whether to believe it or not until early this morning when we received a letter from Manon Blackbeak,”

Aelin blinked and sat up straighter. She had heard murmurs about the brutal white-haired witch. She was supposedly wickedly talented with blades and her iron nails, bloodthirsty in more ways than one. The rumor was that she had broken away from the Ironteeth witches with her coven and a good deal of others once it was unearthed that she was half-Crochan and went to join with her more peaceful kin. The Crochan witches had been few of late, going into hiding to avoid slaughter by their more dangerous kin. Manon, who was to be the heir of the Blackbeak clan, was now also the rightful queen of the Crochans, if the stories could be believed.

“What did she have to say?”

“She requests an audience with our court… to seek allegiance and support in their war,”

“Well, we clearly don’t give it to them!” shouted one man with thinning hair. “The witches have done nothing for the good in the world for the past centuries! Especially the Blackbeak heir! I say let them kill each other off,”

There were whispers of agreement from around the table.

“The Crochan witches were always peaceful,” another countered. 

“Perhaps no longer if that white demon is their queen,”

“If Manon Blackbeak wanted to raise hell, she could,” Aelin murmured. “But, she fights  _ against  _ the people she came from. If she want or believe in finding peace, then I see no other gain for her turning her back on her clan,”

“For a crown, perhaps?”

“A crown of a dying people!” Aelin said. “And if they didn’t believe in her message, then they would turn on her,”

“So are you saying you will provide aid to Manon Blackbeak’s cause?” the general said, raising a bushy, gray eyebrow.

“I’m saying, that I will take an audience with Manon Blackbeak, hear what she had to say, and then decide,” Aelin stated. “Please draft a letter back to her as soon as possible to arrange for a visit here,”

“You invite witches to Orynth?” a courtier asked incredulously.

“I invite potential allies to Orynth,” Aelin snapped back. “Should Manon and the Crochans win this war, the curse left on their lands will be lifted and the Witch Kingdom will have the opportunity to rise again. They were once a powerful nation, with a huge plot of territory. Nothing would separate our kingdoms but land and forest and mountains, all which mean nothing when they can fly for miles and miles with their brooms. I would rather have an ally in the west than an enemy in the shadows. Send the letter,”

“Of course, your highness,”

When Orlon wasn’t at Orynth, power fell to her. It would be her decision whether or not to provide aid to the Crochan alliance. Her uncle trusted her judgements after years of watching her learn and train in court. He would support whatever choice she made in the end.

The rest of the meeting droned on, talks of taxes and crops. Aelin spoke when she was supposed to, though she was dreadfully bored. She counted down the minutes until the session was finally dismissed and she could escape from the dreary boardroom. 

Aelin swept down the halls, wondering what to do with the rest of the day. She could grab Lysandra and go out to the city for some shopping if she wasn’t busy flirting with Aedion, which had gotten more and more frequent as of late. Aelin would be thrilled if her best friend and her cousin would finally admit their feelings for each other instead of dancing around the topic as they had been doing for the past year. 

A shadow swooped from an open window, shifting with a flash of bright light as Rowan fell instep with her.

“You invited witches over for dinner?” he asked slowly.

“Yes,”

“I’ve seen witches, fought them. They can be vicious things. Dangerous.”

Aelin quirked a brow. “Well it wouldn’t be fun if they weren’t!”

Rowan shook his head at her. “Manon Blackbeak will probably bring her entire coven with her. From what I’ve heard, they’re a well-trained, lethal group,”

“So I’ve heard,” Aelin said. “But, I also know that witches are protective and territorial over their covens. If Manon Blackbeak takes a look at my court and expects that even one of her witches could be hurt or killed, she wouldn’t be foolish enough to act… not that I think she would. If she wanted to do us harm, she wouldn’t have sent a letter,”

“If the Crochans win this civil war, it would be a good thing,” Rowan mused as they strode down the halls. “For too long, the Ironteeth have gone unchecked. A Crochan-Ironteeth queen leading a more peaceful, obedient people has the potential to save lives,”

“I know that, silly,” Aelin teased. “That’s why I invited her… and, I would like it if you would grace the meeting with your presence. The rest of my court will be there as well but I wouldn’t mind some extra… intimidation,”

Rowan flashed her a feral grin. “It would be my pleasure,”

…

The letters were sent and within a week, a date was arranged for their meeting. The rightful Crochan queen would be arriving to Orynth with her coven.

If Aelin was nervous about her audience with the witch, she didn’t show it. Rowan watched her in the passing days while they trained, looking for any hint of aversion or nerves but finding nothing. 

The witches would arrive the next day. Orynth felt tense around them, even if their visit wasn’t publicly announced, people whispered. 

It was late, the night was cold and clear. The first of the autumn snows would be arriving soon, blanketing the sprawling territory of the north. But, Rowan’s rooms were warm. Aelin kept the fire tended at the perfect temperature to heat the space. Once her wounds had been healed, she had taken to sleeping in his rooms once again, not that he minded. He was used to her presence there, preferred, even when she left personal items scattered around. She had taken up one of Rowan’s many empty drawers and filled it with some of her nightgowns and sleepwear. But, he didn’t mind. The space wasn’t being used anyhow.

Rowan exited the bathing chamber, hair still slightly damp from his bath, towel slung low over his hips as he ventured out to grab something to sleep in. Aelin was already sprawled out on the bed, face buried on her pillow. She was wearing an oversized white shirt… one of his shirts, Rowan realized. She must have grabbed it when he had been bathing. 

Part of him snarled in satisfaction at the sight, the hem reaching her mid-thigh, knowing she was covered in his scent. 

Another part of Rowan told him that he had no right to be glad his scent was on her, that he had no claim on the princess. Aelin could dally as she pleased, none of the human males would be able to scent him on her. Her cousin would, but they spend so much time together already that their scents were always on one another.

“Aelin?” Rowan asked slowly.

“Hmm?” she hummed, eyes still shut softly.

“Is that my shirt?”

“Yes, but you can’t have it back,” she sighed, eyes slowly peeling open as she sat up to look at him.

Rowan wondered if he imagined how her brilliant eyes seemed to flare in the dim light, as they trailed across his body, all the way down to the towel on his waist before they flickered back up. Aelin tugged her bottom lip between her teeth, fingers clenching the sheets as if she were holding herself back before she seemed to shake herself slightly.

“Are you going to keep me up all night? I need my beauty sleep before our little meeting tomorrow,”

Rowan shook his head slightly as he grabbed clothes, trying to forget the hunger he had just seen in Aelin. He could have passed the first time he thought he saw it, before the assassination attempt, as his imagination, but seeing it again…

Perhaps his mind was just playing tricks on him. The princess had never made any advances of the sort… but if it were something she did desire… Rowan wasn’t sure what he would do. She was beautiful and enthralling and he cared for her deeply but… he’d thought about it once or twice before, taking her to bed and gods, was it hard at times to keep her at arms length, to keep from touching her or being near her. It hadn’t been like this with any other woman before, and part of Rowan was too worried to explore what that could mean.

The Fae prince went behind a changing curtain, slipping on a pair of soft trousers before padding to the bed. Aelin glanced at him as he laid down beside her, the candle light dimming and covering them with darkness.

“Are you worried for tomorrow?” Rowan asked.

“Why would I be worried? I’ll have you there,” she said, poking him on the bicep.

Rowan looked at her dryly.

Aelin’s laugh faded as her eyes met his, letting out a long breath. “I just… hope I can get this right. I hope I don’t manage to screw up so badly that the lords and advisors will hold it over my head my entire reign,”

“You won’t do that, Aelin,” Rowan murmured. “You know what you’re doing. Whatever you decide, you know we’ll all support you,”

A soft smile. “I know. Goodnight, Rowan,”

“Goodnight, Fireheart,”

…

Aelin knew the immense importance of appearance. She knew a certain gown held more power over another, the difference between wearing a crown versus a circlet, how much jewelry was  _ too  _ much. It was a careful balance that needed to be maintained. 

And the princess knew how important her appearance would be today. She had carefully selected the gown, jewelry, and headpiece for her audience with Manon Blackbeak today. She had to show that she was heir to a powerful nation and wouldn’t be taken advantage of.

In fact, Aelin thought her look today was some of her best work. A beautifully structured black gown, nearly brutal in its simplicity. The neckline was a sharp angle, not deep enough to be scandalous, but simply enough to not be matronly. The shoulders on the gown were covered in golden, armor-like platelets that matched the thin chain belt that cinched at her waist. Her hair was twisted up gracefully, framing her face and giving a glimpse of the graceful curve of her neck. Atop her hair was a crown that had belonged to her mother, twisting antler horns of deep grey that arched in the middle, holding a single, glimmering emerald. Aelin knew she looked untouchable.

It seemed the rest of her court had followed suit. Aedion wore a fine tunic with the Terrasen stag stitched into the front. He had actually decided to tie back his hair at the nap of his neck. At his hip hung his mighty sword. Ren had dressed similarly, with his twin swords peeking over each shoulder like wings.

Elide wore a gown of deep blue with her hair artfully twisted up, while Lysandra was content to prowl around in snow leopard form.

Rowan wore his regular warrior garb, but Aelin wouldn’t oppose to that today. Let them see who had trained her, let them remember that one of the greatest warriors in history stood by her side… quite literally, actually.

The meeting was to be held in a discrete board room. It wasn’t the large space they used for meetings with lords and courtiers, this one for more private affairs. There was one table, not nearly as long as the ones used for full court meetings, and most likely not enough to sit both of Aelin’s court and Manon’s coven, but, if her witches were anything like her friends, they wouldn’t want to sit. Ren lingered by the window, Lysandra pacing about, giant paws near-silent on the stone floor. If Aedion didn’t have to sit by her side as recognition of his status, she was sure he would be lingering somewhere by the door. On her other side sat Elide, whose counsel she trusted completely. And Rowan stood right behind her, his presence a steady comfort. 

Aelin swallowed hard, banishing any bit of nerves as the clock struck noon. Any second now, they would walk through those doors. Rowan’s fingers brushed her upper arm just as the door opened, and in walked the most beautiful woman Aelin had ever seen.

Witch, not woman, Aelin reminded herself as gold eyes locked on her own. Her snow-white hair was swept back in a tight braid, body clad in skin-tight flying leathers. Over her shoulders hung a bright red cloak. Aelin looked at Manon Blackbeak evenly, tilting her chin up ever so slightly as more witches streamed into the room. 

Aelin had never seen a witch before, and now she was in the presence of thirteen. They all had the appearance of young women, but only a fool would think of them so. Every bit of Aelin’s instincts screamed that they were dangerous, lethal if they wanted to be. Some carried swords or daggers, and she knew they all had hidden weapons in the form of iron teeth and nails.  

Two witches flanked close to Manon’s sides, probably her second and third in command. One, a golden-haired witch with a braided leather band across her forehead, another with tanned skin, thick brows and dark hair.

Manon scanned the room, trained eyes taking in every door and window, studying all those scattered across the space. Aelin knew she was probably clocking them for weapons, wondering who could do the most damage to her witches if things were to go south. Witches were vicious fighters, but their magic didn’t manifest itself the way Aelin’s did. They would have to Yield, sacrificing themselves and most likely everyone else if they wanted to use their innate power… but Aelin knew deep down that would wouldn’t. None of these witches would dare hurt one of their sisters. 

If they were to fight, Aelin knew that she and her court had the upper hand. Those the witches outnumbered them greatly, Aelin’s magics could incinerate them before they even reached for their blades, Rowan’s winds would work just as quickly. Aelin figured Manon Blackbeak must understand that fact as well. Her stunning eyes drooped from Rowan, who was practically bristling behind her, back to Aelin. The princess offered the witch a small smile and a bob of the head.

“Well met, my friend,”

Manon’s harsh mouth softened into a barely noticeable smile, as if she were unused to the expression, and took the seat across from Aelin. The two witches who had stood by her earlier occupied the places on either side of their leader while the rest of her coven stood around the room, making a small crescent around Manon. Aelin could tell they would protect her until their dying breath.

“Thank you, for agreeing to see us,” Manon said.

Aelin could have laughed for how strange the diplomatic words sounded coming out of her mouth. Manon didn’t seem like the type of person who often said ‘please’ or ‘thank you’.

“I think it would have been rather selfish of me to not do so,” Aelin replied. “I must say, I relate to your struggle in a way. The daughter of two people who do not quite understand one another,”

Manon nodded slowly. “I was raised to be hateful, to feel nothing but anger and repulsion. I was taught how to maim and kill, to hunt down my Crochan sisters until there were none left. I never questioned it, didn’t have the right to, and I lived in that ignorance for far too long. I was blind to the injustices and atrocities that my people commited, but once I started to see them, to question their choices…” a quick glance to the golden-haired witch beside her as she trailed off. “When my bloodline was revealed, I knew that it was possible for our two people to coexist. I did the only thing I could think of, leaving the Ironteeth and finding the Crochans,”

“How did the Crochan’s react when you found them?” asked Aedion carefully.

“It was a… difficult transition,” Manon admitted. “To get them to trust me after centuries of fear… but with the support of my great grandmother, they soon joined me, recognized my bloodright,”

“How many Ironteeth dissented alongside you?” Elide asked.

“A few dozen covens,” Manon answered. “Enough to make a formidable army, alongside the Crochans. The Matrons of the Ironteeth seek now to hunt us down and slaughter us for the insult,”

“And what is it you seek?” Aelin questioned, head tilted to the side slightly. “What is it you want, Manon Blackbeak?”

“Peace,” the witch said without hesitation. “To rebuild the Witch Kingdom to the might it once had, for Crochan’s and Ironteeth to reach an understanding, to stop needless death and destruction,”

Aelin wondered if Manon knew that her answer would be the deciding factor in whether they got the support she sought. But Manon’s vision… Aelin would support that, would help the witch who believed in peace.

“What is it you desire from Terrasen?” Aelin asked. “Weapons? Supplies? Soldiers?”

“Not soldiers,” Manon said quickly. “I will not ask your people to fight and die in a war they had no hand in starting,” her gold eyes skipped to Rowan. “But, I suppose a Fae warrior or two wouldn’t hurt,”

Aelin laughed softly. “No, I suppose they wouldn’t, but I’m afraid I cannot loan out Prince Rowan as he is here on behest of my aunt to complete an arrangement,”

“Fair enough,” Manon sighed, leaning back in her seat. “We need supplies, mostly. Provisions. The Crochans have been scattered and nomadic, they do not have farms or livestock. Weapons, also would be helpful… and, we would like to request that if we win this war, you will recognize my claim to the throne,”

Aelin considered her requests for a moment before nodding slowly. “We can provide supplies and weapons, and  _ when  _ you win this war, Terrasen will recognize Manon Blackbeak as rightful queen to the Witch Kingdom,”

There seemed to be a weight lifted from Manon’s shoulders as Aelin’s words washed over her. Aelin could sympathize with her position. She had an entire people thrust upon her suddenly, who looked up to her for protection and leadership. This meeting had most likely been one of her first tests as queen, to see how foreign powers reacted to her. 

“And what is it you want in return?” Manon inquired.

“Nothing immediately,” Aelin answered. “For now, knowing that we will have an ally in the west will suffice. It would be unfair to place more of a burden upon you and your people in a time of struggle,”

Manon placed a hand over her heart and bowed her head, the rest of her coven following suit. Aelin was shocked by this display of respect, from a queen in her right and her brutal warriors. She tried her best from showing any surprise on her face.

“We thank you, your highness,” Manon spoke before raising her head. “We will not forget this. Should you ever need us, for anything, you can count on our support,”

That was a mighty gift to give.

“Thank you… your majesty,” Aelin said with a wicked smile that the witch returned. Oh, they would get along just fine. “Now, let’s talk logistics…”

…

The minute details were discussed over the rest of the afternoon, through dinner, and then after, over some of the finest wine Terrasen had to offer. As Aelin spent more time with Manon Blackbeak and her coven, she realized not all the witches were as stoic as their leader. Some of them had wicked senses of humor and sharp smiles, literally, as many were more than willing to flash iron teeth and answer any questions about them.

“Do they rust?” Lysandra had asked, eventually shifting back into her human form to enjoy the food provided.

“Only if not taken proper care of,” answered a dark haired witch. Vesta, Aelin believed. She was trying to keep them all straight.

The coven was offered lodging for the night, but they declined. They didn’t have a moment to waste and needed to return to their sisters with news of aid and ideas for operations provided by Aedion and Rowan. So, Aelin threw a fur-lined cloak over her shoulders and walked Manon and her coven into the cold, night air, clasping forearms with the Witch Queen before bidding them farewell. Under the cover of darkness, the witches took off on their brooms in the night.

“Not as scary as I thought they would be,” Aedion remarked after they disappeared from their sight. 

“Liar,” Elide shot back. 

“The queen was awfully beautiful,” Lysandra added.

“I know!” the princess agreed as they headed back into the warm halls of Orynth. It was late, and the day had been long. Aelin wanted nothing more than to soak in her tub before collapsing into bed. There seemed to have been a knot of worry between her shoulders all day that was finally beginning to unwind.

She hadn’t wanted to say the wrong thing, to risk offending their new allies. Every word uttered had been chewed over in her mind and carefully considered. If this is what queenhood would be like, at least Aelin would never be bored. 

Aelin said goodnight to her friends, giving Rowan a tiny smile that promised she would be seeing him in a few hours, before slipping into her rooms and instantly stripping. She tossed her tiara away, unpinning what felt like hundreds of clips from her hair. Her dress pooled to the ground as she strode into the bathing chambers, and sunk into hot water.

She lost track of time as she focused on her breathing, as her body and mind began to relax, taking her time to lather her hair and scrub her body with her various flower-scented soaps and oils. She deserved to treat herself a bit after today.

When Aelin finally deigned to leave the bath, she found herself thankful for her powers as she dried her hair with half a thought. There was nothing she despised more than damp hair on a cold night, it always gave her a chill she couldn’t shake. 

Once she was donned in one of her favorite nightgowns with a warm robe wrapped around her and slippers on her feet, she followed the now-familiar twists and turns of the secret passages to Rowan’s chambers. 

The Fae prince’s room was bathed in a warm, orange glow from the crackling fire lit in the hearth. He was seated at his desk, the sound of a scratching quill reaching her pointed ears as she crossed the threshold. 

Green eyes landed on her as she shut the stone door behind her. Rowan paused his writing as she closed the distance between them, placing a hand on his shoulder and peering at the parchment. Her brows furrowed as she looked at the words in the Old Language sprawled across the paper in careful, neat lettering. She had learned some of the Old Language in the past, but she wasn’t close to fluent.

“Who are you writing to?” Aelin asked, head tilted to the side.

Rowan’s lips were pressed tight, his solemn expression telling her all she needed to know. Maeve, he was writing a letter to Maeve.

Aelin squinted at the lettering, forehead puckered in concentration as she tried her best to make out some of the words.  _ Witch,  _ she translated.  _ Alliance. _

“You are telling her of the meeting today,” Aelin stated. 

A slow nod from Rowan, something like a glimmer of guilt in his eyes.

She knew that he wrote to Maeve, informed his queen of her progress. She supposed it only made sense that he would tell her of any important developments from Terrasen. It wasn’t that Terrasen’s support of Manon Blackbeak would be a secret, Maeve would have learned of it eventually.

Aelin perched herself on the arm of Rowan’s chair. Not the most comfortable position, but it will do. “And… if I asked you not to send it?”

There was regret lining Rowan’s face before he spoke. “Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t. I am bound by oath to obey my queen. I’m sorry,”

Aelin shrugged. What Maeve commanded was no fault of his own. 

“Is it possible to work around an order from a blood oath?” Aelin asked, more out of curiosity than anything.

“There are ways to perhaps… delay an order, or evade an order,” Rowan began. “If they request that they bring you something, but don’t specify when… it could be avoided until the one who gave the order notices and gives another to repair the mistake. If the orders are vague or unspecific, the blood sworn has more freedom with how to follow it, even if they knew what the orderer meant,”

Aelin nodded thoughtfully. “And, if someone were able to defy the magic that bound them to the oath and disobey?”

“The magic would then demand a steep price,” Rowan said. “Most likely, it would take their life,”

Of course it would. Ancient magics like that didn’t like to be messed with. They came from the ancient powers the held the strings of the world together. It was why messing with those magics, making bargains and oaths, was not taken lightly. 

“And suppose we find a way to work around Maeve’s orders and I steal you away,” Aelin said, trying to work a smile to her lips. “What then?”

Rowan had a sad smile of his own. “I’m afraid it would be an act of war… and with the oath tying me to Maeve, I would have no choice but to fight against you,”

Aelin felt a hope she didn’t even know she held shatter. There would be no keeping Rowan from Maeve, not with that damned oathing binding them. They would have to face parting one day, a day that Aelin felt was too fast approaching.

“Do you ever regret that you took the oath?” Aelin asked at length, voice so soft she could barely hear herself. “Does it ever stop you from doing things that you wish to do?”

Rowan was quiet for a few painful heartbeats before he took her hand within his own, placing their intertwined fingers on her bare knee. He held her with a steady sort of strength that Aelin cherished. The intensity she found in his eyes made Aelin’s heart skip a beat.

“There are many things I wish to do that I cannot,” he rasped, tongue darting out and wetting his lips.

Aelin inhaled a shuddering breath as his eyes swept down her face and lingered. Surely his words didn’t mean what she thought they did, that he wasn’t looking at her with deep, painful, longing. Surely he wasn’t looking at her lips.

She had almost kissed him, months ago, before she was stuck through with an arrow. She had tried not to think of it, to think of what had happened if she did. She never would have believed that Rowan would have wanted her like that, that he was denying himself every day due to his sense of honor, and that pesky blood oath that would prevent them from developing whatever this…  _ thing  _ was between them. 

With such few words, he had told her volumes… and the pleading in his eyes, asking her to understand what he was trying to say. Although he wanted to, he couldn’t, and because of that, he never would.

She couldn’t deny it anymore, that tug she felt constantly towards him. Aelin could no longer blame it on the  _ carranam  _ bond, it was something else that tied the two together. 

If Rowan did want her, he wouldn’t make the first move. He would stop himself because of his role in Doranelle, because of her responsibilities as princess. 

And Aelin… she didn’t know she could forgive her foolish heart if she let herself fall in love with him, only to have him ripped away, where she could never reach him. Even if she wanted nothing more at the moment than the press her lips against his, feel his arms wrap around her, let him back her towards the bed and slip off her robe.

He couldn’t give himself to her fully, but she would take whatever parts she could and hold them in her heart, the heart she wanted to give it freely to Rowan.

But it couldn’t be.

Aelin didn’t even know she was crying until she felt his calloused fingers brushing away the stray tears that dribbled down her cheek. 

“Now is not the time for tears,” Rowan murmured softly. “You should be celebrating. You were amazing today with Manon. What you accomplished… it hasn’t been done in centuries,”

Aelin scoffed out a short laugh, leaning into his touch. “I suppose I’m quite impressive,”

And though she laughed, though her lips were parted in a smile, she could not stop the tears from streaming. If Rowan knew what they were for, he didn’t say, merely hooking a broad hand around her waist and tugging her from her perch on the arm of the chair into his lap. She melted into his warmth, taking her hand that wasn’t twined with his and draping it over his neck, her fingers slipping through the silky strands of his hair.

Aelin leaned her head against his chest as his thumb skimmed soothing circles across the skin on the side of her knee. 

She didn’t know how long she sat there, letting her tears dry and her breathing even. Rowan held her, a strong, comforting presence as her eyes began to feel heavy. Aelin was vaguely aware of drifting off sometime in the night, of Rowan holding her tight as he stood and carried her to the bed, tucking her under the soft, warm sheets. 

What she did remember in perfect clarity, despite her shut eyes, was the feeling of his lips against her cheek in a kiss meant to be chaste, but lingered just too long to be so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter for yall!   
> Here's manon. She will be making other appearances in the story as well.  
> To answer some questions, Dorian and Chaol will in the story, as will Nehemia and Fleetfoot a bit later.  
> Yes, there is going to be some jealousy on both sides coming up soon ;)  
> and, of course, some angst.  
> Hope you all are enjoying! let me know what you thought of the chapter :)


	27. Chapter 27

Another month passed, the airs growing colder with enough bite to tell them the first autumn snows would soon be falling. 

They continued training, and the princess only getting better. Rowan was blown away by her skill and prowess, when she was able to put a blade to her throat a handful of times more. 

They did not speak again of the night where Aelin fell asleep against his chest, when he saw understanding light her face in the most tragic of ways. 

The questions she had been asking about the blood oath… Aelin had been thinking of ways to keep him from having to go back to Maeve. He had been pondering the same for months. He would do anything to stay in the north with Aelin and her court, to be by her side as she ascended to the throne, to support her, to fight for her… but he could think of no way to escape Maeve. 

The way she had looked at him, with those brilliant eyes welling with tears, Rowan knew she understood what he had been trying to say, and that she felt similarly. Aelin couldn't risk tying herself to him in any way, not while he was bound to Maeve. 

His queen wanted Aelin to come to Doranelle, but had never said why. He didn’t trust Maeve when it came to the princess and her safety. The Fae queen had her own agenda, and she didn’t care who was hurt when it came to fulfilling it. She wanted to use Aelin in some way, and Rowan wouldn't dare let himself love her, knowing that Maeve would exploit it against Aelin.

As far as Maeve knew from Rowan, the relationship he and Aelin shared didn’t go beyond training. If perhaps she asked Fenrys upon his return to Doranelle, he could have reported that they were friends and perhaps  _ carranam. _ Maeve couldn’t know about how deep their bond truly went, that they would fight and kill for one another if needed. She would use that tether to drag Aelin straight to Doranelle to use her for whatever purposes she kept to herself.

Rowan wouldn’t risk Aelin.

But between their banter and laughter, he would feel her eyes lingering on him, irises swimming with longing. He would find himself looking at her similarly.

But they wouldn’t mention it, that  _ thing  _ that hung between them. 

Perhaps it was better that way.

Aelin shivered as they walked through the towering gates of Orynth. Rowan wanted nothing more than to wrap an arm over his shoulder to warm her, but he wouldn’t. Too many eyes, too many implications.

“I hate right before the snows fall,” Aelin mumbled. “Too warm for furs, but just cold enough to be miserable without them,”

Rowan watched with a wry smile as Aelin rubbed some warmth in her arms, a few ribbons of smoke curling from her fingers as she used to magic to do so. It was fascinating that the princess of ash and fire still managed to get chilly. 

They parted, the princess retiring to her rooms to bathe and change. He didn’t expect to see her again until the evening, when she was ready to sleep. Rowan was normally left alone in his chambers, no one really daring to come to his door save for Aelin.

Which is why he was surprised to hear knocking hours later, just before the sun dipped below the horizon.

A servant boy, telling him his presence was requested in the king’s office as soon as possible.

Rowan tried not to let his surprise show. Orlon had never asked for his presence before, especially not in as private a setting as his personal office. 

He hadn’t any idea what it could be about. His stomach tightened, wondering if something had happened with Aelin. But, Rowan supposed, if something was wrong with the princess, the message wouldn’t have been so polite.

Rowan strode through the halls of Orynth, following the paths he had grown familiar with over the years. The servants and courtiers seemed calm and collected, meaning nothing destructive enough had occurred to bother the masses. No attack, no imminent danger. 

The doors to Orlon’s study were cracked open, waiting for him. Inside the tiny room sat the king and his lover, Aelin seated in one of two seats before his dark, oak desk. The princess noticed him first, peering over her shoulder and sending him a tiny smile. Perhaps a little tight, knowing something he didn’t, but not pained. She was alright, then. 

“Prince Whitethorn,” Orlon’s voice rumbled, motioning to the seat beside his niece. “Please, sit,”

Rowan stepped into the room, slowly lowering himself beside Aelin. He didn’t sense any tension in the air.

“Is everything alright, your majesty?” Rowan asked as he leaned back in the chair.

“Yes, prince, everything is fine,” Orlon breathed, waving a wrinkled hand in dismissal. “We did, however, receive a letter from Doranelle,”

Rowan’s body tightened. A letter from his homelands? Orlon didn’t say it was from Maeve specifically, and it had not been addressed to him specifically. 

“A group of Fae dignitaries from the City of Rivers will be doing a goodwill tour around the continent, to try and strengthen ties between the kingdoms of men and the Fae,” the king explained. “They have asked if they can find refuge in Orynth for a few nights before continuing their journey,”

A goodwill journey? His queen had never mentioned anything about trying to build ties with the mortal kingdoms before. He was under no doubt that the dignitaries were following command of his queen, though they perhaps were also unaware of what she truly wanted.

If Maeve had requested they come to Terrasen, it would most likely to get another look at the princess. Perhaps something Fenrys had reported had piqued her curiosity, and she wasn’t getting the information she desired from Rowan’s letters, which had been getting shorter and more vague as the time went on. He would write enough to satisfy the oath that burned in his blood, but nothing more. 

There had been a time when he had followed Maeve’s orders without question, but no longer. He would shield Aelin from the Fae queen as best he could. 

“I see,” Rowan murmured.

“The female who drafted the letter asked for you specifically, prince,” Orlon continued. “A Lady Remelle?”

Rowan blinked once, the most emotion he would show upon hearing the name. Out of everyone… she had probably pleaded with Maeve to come where she knew he would be. 

“She sounded… very interested,” Aelin said, quirking a knowing brow. “We just supposed you deserve a fair warning,”

“So you will be providing lodging?” 

Orlon nodded. “Yes. There are only three and it shall be for two nights. I will not insult our…  _ friends  _ across the sea for such tiny a trouble,” 

“They will arrive within two days,” Darrow said. 

“Fae nobility are harmless,” Rowan said. “They will be more interested in talking amongst themselves and hiding in their quarters than anything else. I can help you deal with them while they are here,” 

Orlon bowed his head. “Thank you, prince,” 

Eventually, once Rowan made to leave, Aelin was at his side in an instant.

“What was that look for?”

“What look?”

“That look you had on your face when my uncle mentioned that female! Remelle, was it?” 

Rowan clenched his jaw. “It’s nothing,”

Aelin frowned. “Are you keeping things from me, prince?” 

A long sigh. “Aelin…”

The princess pursed her lips and turned away sharply. “Fine then. Keep your secrets,”

“Aelin.” Rowan said again sharply, grabbing onto her upper arms and spinning her to face him. Her bright eyes were wide as she looked at him expectantly. He released a short breath. “She… she was a lover, a century ago,”

Aelin raised a brow. “ _ That  _ is what you didn’t want to say? What, was it a drunken mistake? Is she homely or something? Is she embarrassing?”

“No, no,” Rowan groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “She’s just…”

“She still wants you, doesn’t she?”

“A curse of immortality, really,” Rowan said. “She just wants what she can’t have,”

Aelin was silent for a few moments. “So… she’s beautiful then?”

“That is what you care about?”

The princess tossed her head back and let loose a loud laugh, Rowan reaching out and pinching her sides. She batted his hands away as her giggles died down.

“I look forward to meeting her,” Aelin said with a smarmy smile.

Rowan shook his head as he imagined the interaction. At least it would be entertaining.

…

As Aelin teased her warrior prince over the next few days, she began to truly realize what spectacular patience he had. It was amazing he hadn’t snapped yet, and looked like he wasn’t going to any time soon, even with her constant needling. 

Her uncle had been suspicious at the letter they received, as he often was with any news concerning her aunt. But, he agreed to host the small party of Fae. Perhaps he didn’t want to seem frightened by Maeve, show her that he could handle whatever she could throw. Not that these Fae nobility were anything to worry about, according to Rowan. They weren’t like his cadre, they were not powerful warriors. He had told her they were rather like mortal courtiers, who had only had decades to practice their craft of gossiping and throwing sugar-covered insults. 

Aelin was to greet their guests by the gates.

She was donned in her finery, even under the cold, gray skies. A thick, white gown with long, billowing sleeves, a matching cloak over her shoulders to fight away the chill in the air. Her hair was half-braided up, one of her more simple circlets resting upon her brow.

She stood by her uncle and cousin, Rowan lingering a step behind to greet his people. If it had been anyone else arriving to Orynth, he would be hidden away in his chambers. 

Three fine horses, Asterion horses, Aelin realized, clopped closer to where they stood. The riders were bundled in thick, fur-lined cloaks, almost comically considering snow had yet to fall. Their clothes and saddles were of fine make, displaying their wealth and positions of power. 

As they slowed to a stop, Aelin swept a gaze over their new guests. Two females, both stunning, and a male, who was fair in the sense that all the Fae were fair.

The first female was swaddled in a pale gray cloak, almost blending in with the sky above. Her skin was creamy white, with a shock of silky blonde hair. Her lovely face was twisted in discomfort, perhaps at the horse, perhaps at the weather. The other female had rich, caramel colored skin, warm brown eyes, and a head of righteous curls. She seemed much more pleasant, and was taking in all the sights around her with far more interest than her companions.

As they dismounted, Aelin couldn’t help but wonder which of the lovely females had shared a bed with Rowan for a season. It could have easily been either, with their alluring features and supple bodies. 

But, as they approached the royal family, the one with the pale skin swept her icy blue eyes over Aelin with an assessing, but bored, look before skipping over to Rowan with a serpentine smile, Aelin knew which one was Remelle. 

“Welcome, friends, to Orynth,” Orlon greeted, working a smile on his face.

The three Fae dipped into curtsies and bows. 

“Thank you, your majesty, for having us,” the male, Benson, Aelin believed, said.

“Come, you must be weary after your journey,” her uncle continued. “We will get you into the warm to rest before dinner,”

“Aye, it is dreadfully cold,” the dark-skinned female, Essar if the other was Remelle, said with a friendly smile.

Aedion looked at her with a smile of his own that looked more like a cringe. “This is mild. It will get much worse,” 

Essar’s face fell. 

As they turned to lead the guests inside the halls of Orynth, Aelin spared Rowan a quick glance. The Fae prince’s face could have been hewn from stone.

Aelin quirked her brows.  _ This will be fun. _

Lady Remelle pulled back the hood of her cloak, her hair somehow perfectly curled despite the travel. Her full lips pulled back from bright white teeth as she looked to Rowan, a gleam in her eyes that made Aelin want to claw her face off. 

The female brushed past Aelin in a manner that was border-lined disrespectful considering Aelin’s position.

“Rowan,” Remelle breathed. “Why, it’s been an age!”

The Fae prince nodded in recognition. 

Aelin ground her teeth as she watched the Fae female fall in step with Rowan, though it pleased her to see he seemed nothing but annoyed with her, despite her attempts to charm him. Aelin recognized the pretty smiles and fluttering lashes. Aelin had used the moves before plenty of times.

But Aelin also recognized the cunning and wickedness in her eyes. Although she smiled and blushed, she was no innocent maiden. There was a snake behind those pretty eyes and fair skin. Aelin couldn’t believe that this was one of the females Rowan had fallen to bed with. After what he had told her of Lyria, of her kindness and softness, Remelle seemed like the polar opposite.

But… perhaps that had been what Rowan had sought after the loss of his mate. Perhaps he never wanted to be reminded of the female he had lost. 

Aelin was startled from her brooding by a warm presence at her side. She looked to her left to find Lady Essar by her wide, a wide, honest grin on her face, flashing two dimples. 

“It is an honor to meet you, princess,” Essar said. “I’ve heard stories of you and your power. I think we can compare notes,”

She held up a single finger, a tiny lick of flame flickering on the tip, turning her eyes molten.

Aelin blinked. She had never met another with her same manner of magic. A slow conspirators smile crept onto Aelin’s lips. 

“I believe we will be getting along well, Lady Essar,” 

Aelin chatted lightly with the female about her travels. Essar was unused to the cold, and was exceptionally thankful for her gift of fire while on the road. She told Aelin about little tips and tricks she had picked up in her years to keep warm on cool days.

Aelin tried her best to listen to the female, but her eyes kept on finding Remelle as she spoke with Rowan. Well,  _ at  _ Rowan was a better way to describe it because the Fae prince didn’t deign to answer much. If he did, it was in clipped responses.

“Allow me to escort the ladies to your rooms,” Aelin announced, slowing to a stop.

Remelle peered over her shoulder at her, annoyance in her icy blue eyes as her conversation with Rowan was interrupted. Still, she flashed him a pretty smile.

“I will be seeing you at dinner,” the female breathed before floating to Aelin’s side. 

Aelin noted the relief on Rowan’s face as she led the female away, subtly raising a brow at him.  _ You’re welcome. _

Essar and Remelle gawked at all the mortals that scurried around the palace, most likely not used to seeing so many at a time. Aelin tried not to growl at the judgemental brow Remelle raised at one of the squatter, elder maids who shuffled by with a basket of clean laundry. It was unlikely that either of them ever saw anyone of such a build. 

“I’ve never seen so many mortals in one place before!” Remelle shared.

“You’ve never visited a human village on your continent?” Aelin asked.

“Maeve didn’t send us to any human settlements,” Essar said, surprising the princess with how baldly she addressed her queen, with no small amount of distaste in her tone. Interesting.

“We’ve been sent to some of the half-breed encampments, though,” the fair-haired female said absent-mindedly.

Essar whirled towards her. “Remelle!” she snapped, before hissing something to her in the Old Language, looking pointedly at Aelin’s ears and their sharp tips.

Remelle quickly said something back in the same tongue. 

Aelin blinked, head tilting to the side, trying to reel in the fury in her blood at what Remelle had said. “Half-breed? Is that what you call us?”

“It was a slip of the tongue, your highness,” she remedied quickly, though she lacked earnesty. 

“An outdated term,” Essar added guiltily, though the fault was not her own. “I believe the term demi-Fae is what is preferred now,”

Aelin nodded slowly before squinting at the two females. “Aye, that is what I use. You said encampments of Demi-Fae? Why do they live amongst themselves and not in Doranelle?”

“The  _ demi-Fae, _ ” Remelle said, stressing the proper term. “Are not permitted into Doranelle until they have proven themselves,”

Proven themselves? Aelin tried not to look so sour at the idea, at what laws her aunt had been upholding for millennia. She knew that demi-Fae were not always welcome in human societies, and now it would seem they were not allowed into Fae societies either, for a genealogy they had no control over. 

“How many demi-Fae make it to Doranelle?”

“Enough,” Remelle sniffed, but Essar had a look on her face that told her otherwise.

“Some of the demi-Fae have enough magic in their blood to make formidable warriors,” Essar added. “Lorcan Salvaterre, the queen’s second in command, is demi-Fae,”

Aelin blinked in surprise. In all their time together, Rowan hadn’t mentioned that Lorcan was demi-Fae, but he didn’t mention his comrade that much at all, really. They weren’t really friends, not in the ways that mattered. Rowan would speak of the others more often if she pressed him, asking about the others such as the Lion of Doranelle, who she knew was the male that Rowan was closest with, but he spoke about him almost as little as Lorcan.

They came upon the rooms the females would be occupying during their time in Orynth. 

“I’ll let you both rest. I’m sure you’re weary after your journey,” Aelin said. 

They thanked her, Essar more earnestly than Remelle, before dipping into their respective rooms. 

Aelin puffed out a breath as their doors clicked shut. If that was what most Fae nobility was like, Aelin couldn’t fault Rowan for rejecting court-life. 

And the laws concerning the demi-Fae… absolutely despicable. How could she not have known? 

Aelin hoped she didn’t look as furious as she felt as she marched down the halls. Perhaps she could find Lysandra or Elide if they weren’t busy, rant about what had already occurred today over some sweets she had squirreled away. 

She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t notice anyone coming up to her side before they were already there. 

“How did that go?” Rowan asked, peering down at her.

Aelin came to an abrupt stop, head whipping towards the Fae prince. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

He blinked once, the only confusion he would show. “Tell you what, Aelin?”

“About how the demi-Fae are treated in Doranelle. About the encampments or- or how the  _ half-breeds  _ must prove themselves?!”

Rowan’s face melted into a dangerous, lethal calm, taking another step towards the princess. “Did she call you that?”

Aelin didn’t need context to know who he referred to. 

She shook her head and sighed. “No, not directly,”

That stormy anger didn’t leave his eyes, not yet. 

“Those laws are appalling,” she snapped, though her anger shouldn’t be directed at Rowan. It wasn’t his fault Maeve ruled so corruptly. But then again, it was his choice to bind himself to her. No one had forced him to take that oath…

“Aelin…” Rowan whispered, reaching out towards her.

But she stepped out of his reach.

Aelin knew she didn’t imagine the flash of hurt in his eyes, and the sight itself caused a throbbing in her chest. She didn’t mean for him to feel that way, she never would, but she had. She didn’t know what to say as she looked at him, the space between them feeling like an ocean. She cursed her traitorous mind for thinking such foul thoughts about him. Rowan was her friend, he was a good male. He had never scorned her to belittled her, and she…

Aelin swallowed the lump in her throat. “I-I’ll see you for dinner,”

With that, she turned heel, and left Rowan standing there alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter for yall!   
> The next update probably wont be ask quick as my last few because I'm moving back into the dorms for the fall semester, so I'm gonna be pretty busy for the next few days but I wanted to get one more chapter out there!  
> I'm glad you guys are enjoying the story and the slowburn. When I was planning this, I wasn't thinking it was gonna be a such a slowburn until I started writing it and I was like... oh shit.  
> Let me know what yall think! love hearing from you guys <3


	28. Chapter 28

Aelin ended up in her rooms alone, content to be with no one but her miserable thoughts. She slumped on her bed, bemoaning her behavior with Rowan. What would he be thinking of her? She wasn’t angry with him, not really. Her emotions had just been riding high and her thoughts moved faster than she would have liked and… 

She had acted foolishly. 

Aelin shouldn’t blame him for pledging the oath to her vile aunt. Maeve had targeted him when she knew he was vulnerable. Lyria had died. Not just died, but had been ripped away from him suddenly and violently. Rowan had lost himself, and Maeve had forced him to her.

She hated her aunt. Fully and whole-heartedly.

It was well-enough that she had put some distance between her and Rowan. He had told her of his suspicions of Maeve sending the tiny delegation as either willing or unwitting spies. Aelin had her suspicions that they were there to observe her relationship with Rowan, report back to Maeve so she could use it against them. That tension Aelin had put between them… it was better for the long run. She would apologize once they left, thoroughly and heartfeltly. 

Aelin spent the rest of the day sequestered in her self-imposed isolation. But, before she knew it, the sun had set and the time for dinner rolled around. 

The princess peeled herself from her bed and went about fixing her hair. She kept the same dress from earlier in the day, forgoing the cloak since the halls were warm enough. It was a lovely dress anyway.

Aelin schooled her face into a look that was less miserable than she felt and ventured into the halls. The torches burned bright and hot, and perhaps would pulse as Aelin passed them, reacting to her roiling emotions. She would have to see Rowan at dinner, after she had jumped away from him like that. She had never done anything of the sort, had never even thought about it. If Rowan had done that to her…

“Princess,”

Aelin was jolted out of her brooding by a male voice down the hall. For a brief heartbeat, she thought it was Rowan, but the unfamiliar tone rung through the air followed by an equally unfamiliar scent. She turned and found the male that Remelle and Essar had been traveling with, Lord Benson, striding towards her.

Aelin worked a tiny smile to her stiff lips. “My lord. I hope you found your rooms to your liking,”

He slowed to a stop beside her. “They are quite enjoyable, thank you. Has anyone ever told you that you are dazzling in white?”

Aelin dipped her chin and fluttered her lashes, feigning bashfulness. Of course she knew she was radiant in white, and of course men had told her so countless times. But, if she were to say that, she would seem vain and self-absorbed, so she had become skilled at faking a blush as an answer in its own.

“Allow me to escort you tonight,” he said, holding up an arm for her to take.

She hated that men always said that as if it were a request, rather than something she would have to do regardless in order to keep diplomacy. So, Aelin smiled prettily and took his arm, ignoring how close he tugged her to his side.

“Is this your first time on the continent?” Aelin asked.

“Aye,” Benson said. “I look forward to seeing what other beautiful sights that are left to be… uncovered,”

Aelin felt her skin crawl at the sultry sweep of his eyes over her body.

It took every ounce of self-control to keep her hands from burning through his fine tunic into the unprotected flesh below. She could practically feel smoke curling in her mouth. 

But she only grinned.

…

Rowan could barely listen to voices around him. He wanted nothing more than to seek out the princess but… she had shied away from him today, as if it were he himself who had been treating her kin so. He hadn’t made the decrees but… perhaps he could have done more. He never questioned the laws of his land, watched as the demi-Fae were scorned from village to village. But even Lorcan, demi-Fae himself, never spared a second glance to those he could have related to.

He shouldn’t go after her,  _ couldn’t _ , in fact, considering he had already been roped to the long table. Remelle had claimed the spot to his left and seemed keen to talk his ear off. The rest of Aelin’s court was present, Essar taking a keen interest in Lysandra who seemed to be getting along swimmingly. 

But Aelin had yet to arrive.

“It’s dreadfully cold here, Rowan. I truly don’t know how you stomach it,” Remelle complained. 

He nearly hummed in response, not even bothering to glance her way, instead taking a long drought of wine. He would need it if he would be able to survive the night. 

The grand double doors to the great hall swung open and in walked two figures. One was Lord Benson, and on his arm, was Aelin.

She looked stunning today in that white gown, practically glowing. She looked as though she was hewn from the icy mountaintops of the Staghorns, crafted from the north itself. Powerful, ethereal, beautiful.

His eyes intently tracked every step she took, every place that Benson touched her. He sat up straighter when her brilliant eyes locked on his, watched as they skipped to the female at his side and darkened slightly. 

Rowan’s fingers clenched into fists in his lap as Benson placed a hand on the small of Aelin’s back and pulled out her chair for her, pressing a kiss on the back of her hand before she seated herself gracefully. Her gaze flickered to his for one more brief moment before it dipped to her wine. 

“Could Benson be any more obvious?” Remelle murmured to him in the Old Language.

“Speak the Common Tongue, Remelle,” Rowan warned softly, before her words sunk in. He glanced at Benson, who was making conversation with the princess. “What do you mean?”

“Well, he thinks he has a chance with her and is trying to woo her,” Remelle hissed out a whisper. 

“What makes him think that?”

“Well, while our queen was giving us our orders, she may have…  _ implied  _ that Lord Fenrys shared her bed while he was stationed here,” she continued. “Why, Benson figured that if Fenrys could work his way into his chambers, then he could too,”

Rowan clenched his teeth so hard that he feared they may break. Who was Maeve to think she had the right to gossip about Aelin’s personal life? He knew Fenrys was a good enough male that he wouldn’t go around boasting about his time with Aelin. Maeve had most likely forced it out of him with the blood oath. 

Aelin would skin Benson alive before she took him to bed. Rowan knew that he had to right to interfere in her personal matter, let alone who she took as a lover, but he knew in his gut that the lord was not good enough for her.

Food was served, steaming on the plates alongside a steady flow of wine. 

Rowan listened to the hum of conversation, not truly taking any of it in. All he desired was that Aelin  _ look  _ at him, once. Perhaps a quick smile with that wicked glimmer in her eyes that he had grown to cherish. 

But she didn’t. She smiled at the others and laughed with them, with her court and Essar mostly. He was glad Maeve had sent the dark-haired female over another one of the tittering nobility from Doranelle. Essar was a good female, kinder, smarter, than the others. He would never understand how a female like her could have ever been involved with a male like Lorcan Salvaterre.

Aelin was drinking more wine than she normally did, probably for the same reason he was. 

This would be a long night.

…

Aelin knew she had consumed too much wine. Her eyes felt heavy, a slight tingle on her brow that normally told her she had reached her peak, though she was quite past that now. The edge of her vision was blurry and slow, as if she were underwater.

She didn’t know what had driven her to the bottom of her cup over and over. Perhaps it was watching Remelle bat her lashes at Rowan, perhaps it was Benson’s relentless innuendos, perhaps it was the lingering guilt of how she had behaved with Rowan.

Aelin considered herself lucky that she wasn’t a messy drunk. She didn’t slur and babble, nor spill over herself as she had seen many men do. She was just perhaps slower, senses muted as if a blanket had been tossed them.

Just before midnight, she slowly stood and excused herself, saying goodnight to her court and family and guests. She walked slowly towards the doors, to not trip over her own feet. She paused just at the threshold, placing a steadying hand on the doorframe and risking one last glance at Rowan. He was speaking with Orlon, ignoring the female at his side. She briefly wondered if there was any part of him that still longed for her, though he didn’t show it.

He deserved someone. Perhaps someone not as bothersome as Remelle, but  _ someone.  _ He had made it clear that, even if he desired it, it couldn’t be Aelin.

Besides, she wasn’t even sure what he had desired from her. Whether it was just pleasure or something deeper… he never clarified. Perhaps she didn’t want to know.

What she did know was that she wouldn’t likely be finding her way to Rowan’s chambers that evening.

Aelin ducked her head and slipped down the corridor.

She hoped she looked a bit more dignified than she felt as she meandered down the halls. Her head was spinning slightly as she shuffled away. She had to pause, bracing one hand against the cold stone wall and the other digging into her temple as she tried to seperate up from down. It had been an age since she was this drunk, the last time was probably after her parents had passed. She had gotten so drunk she had spent the night and the following morning vomiting between her sobs. 

Aelin sucked down a deep breath just as hands reached out and clasped her forearms.

“Are you alright, princess?” Lord Benson asked, breath ghosting across her face.

“I’m fine,” Aelin assured him, pulling her shoulders back, only to find them pressed firmly against the wall, her front far too close to his. Her eyes wobbled upward to his face, looking at it closer. What she once saw was fair, she could now see a nose that was perhaps slightly too long, too pointed. His lips were too thin and his eyes…

His hand crept up and brushed against the curve of her cheek. “So beautiful…”

She was dreaming, she was surely dreaming. Her head was too fuzzy to fully comprehend what was happening as one of his hands gripped her hip hard, dragging them towards his, as his lips brushed against the curve of her neck. Aelin blinked slowly, hands hanging limply by her side, unsure of what to do with herself as his lips moved languidly along the sensitive flesh, hand trailing down her thigh before hitching it up on his waist, allowing him to press his hips against hers even harder… until she felt the first flick of his tongue against her skin.

Aelin gasped, a familiar fire bursting to life in her blood. She snarled and grabbed his shoulders, ripping his away from her, spinning him around until her hands pressed into his shoulders and shoved him into the stone. 

“How  _ dare  _ you?” Aelin hissed, flashing elongated canines close enough to his throat to make him pale. 

She willed heat into her palms, watching as smoke curled from his tunic. He let out a panicked gasp as she burned all the way through the cloth and into the skin below. He cried out in pain as she burned him, not enough to cause serious damage, but enough to sting.

“You’re a madwoman!” Benson cried as she finally dropped him, hand going to his wounds. “What will others do when they hear the future queen of Terrasen brands her guests?”

“What will my guards do when they find out that our guest put his hands on the crown princess without her consent?” Aelin asked, quirking a brow. “Why, I’m quite sure you will  _ lose  _ those hands,”

His eyes narrowed, sizing up a battle he knew he could not win.

“Now I suggest you retire to your rooms before I change my mind,” Aelin said with lethal calm. “You will not go to a healer and I hope you have the good enough sense to not show your face tomorrow,”

Benson threw her one last bitter look before taking down the hall.

Aelin watched until his disappeared from her sight before letting out a long breath. The audacity… in her own halls! She had half a mind to chase him down and show him what the firebringer could truly do.

But she simply put a hand on her throat, wiping away at the phantom feeling his lips that branded her just as she had branded him. Her fists clenched as she thought about what could have happened if she were drunker, if she wasn’t as fast or if she hadn’t been trained.

She felt as though she was going to crawl out of her skin. 

Aelin hugged herself tightly, her heart wanting nothing more than to crawl into the bed she shared with Rowan but… he would scent it, or at least recognize something had happened that shook her. He would slaughter Benson if he knew, and by that, staking a claim on her that would be heard across the sea. No, she couldn’t do that.

But she didn’t want to be alone either.

Aelin felt as though her feet moved on her own accord as she breezed down the halls, before she came upon Lysandra’s suite. She knew her friend wasn’t back yet, knew she was still enjoying herself in the hall, so she simply breezed into her room and started a fire.

She didn’t know how long she sat there, staring into the fire, alone with her thoughts. She wished she could put a stop to them, even just for a moment. Her mind flashed between Remelle and Benson, of the handprints she had seared into his chest, of Rowan alone in his rooms tonight.

Eventually, her keen ears heard footsteps approaching, light laughter and low voices. One was Lysandra, the other Aedion.

“Goodnight, Lys,” she heard her cousin murmur.

“Goodnight, Aedion,” she replied. Aelin could practically hear the smile in her voice.

Footsteps slowly stalked away before the door creaked open and Lysandra stepped inside. Her cheeks were flushed from either the wine or Aedion, brilliant eyes wide when she spotted Aelin sitting by the fire.

“Did you kiss him?” Aelin asked with a smirk.

Lysandra narrowed her eyes. “Not yet, though I looked especially lovely tonight,” she paused. “Are… you alright?”

Aelin nodded. “I just… can I stay here tonight?”

Her friend’s face softened to a smile. “Do you even need to ask? Do you need a nightgown?”

“Yes, please,”

She selected something out of the armoire, hanging her gown off of one the many armchairs scattered across the room, before slipping into Lysandra’s bed. If she knew something was on Aelin’s mind, and she probably did, she didn’t say anything. Lysandra respected whatever it was that was weighing on Aelin’s mind. By this time in their relationship, if one of them needed to talk about something, they would.

But tonight, Aelin hardly said a word.

…

Rowan’s rooms were empty once he finally escaped the dinner. He didn’t know if he expected Aelin to come to him tonight… but he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. She had barely spoken a word to him all day.

Rowan’s room was empty and the bed cold without her.

…

There would be no training the next day, both Aelin and Rowan expected to entertain their guests. Aelin would wager that Remelle had sought Rowan out at first light, and Benson was wise enough to stay hidden. That left the princess with Essar.

Aelin took the female on a walk around the grounds once they had finished breakfast. The sky was still terribly gray and dreary, the first snows no more than a few days away. The frigid air bit at Aelin’s exposed face, though her fingers stayed warm in the deep pockets of her gown, a feature that many of the dresses fashioned in the north had to keep appendages warm during the colder months. Aelin noted Essar eyeing them with jealousy.

They strode side-by-side down a little winding walking path through the Oakwald. The air was thick with a sharp smell of pine, what little light that managed to force itself through the clouds filtering through the treetops. 

“I wonder if Lord Benson has fallen ill,” Essar pondered aloud. “I did not see him at breakfast,”

Aelin couldn’t find it within herself to answer. Her body still flashed with hot shame when she thought about the night before, how she had been foolish, had let herself be treated so. Aelin was a warrior, the Heir of Mala. She shouldn’t have forgotten that, she should have broken his arm the moment he placed his hands on her.

“Where do you travel to next?” Aelin asked instead, changing the subject. 

“To some of the Fae villages scattered throughout your territory,” the female said breezily. “And from there, to Adarlan and so on south,”

“Well, say hello to my friends in Adarlan for me,”

They rounded a massive oak, which had become thin and gnarled in the recent season. Once the snows melted away, it would return back to its former glory, just as it did every year. Aedion had taught her how to climb trees in this oak. She had carved her initials in the bark as high as the branches would allow her to go.

“You’ve known prince Rowan for quite some time now, haven’t you?” Essar asked.

Aelin’s lips pressed together tightly at the subject. “Aye, he has taught me for many years,”

Essar glanced at the princess from the corner of her eye. “He seems… content here. Softer than I’ve ever seen him. Males like Rowan Whitethorn, warriors like him and the others, it’s not always easy to break through that ice,”

“Are you familiar with the rest of his cadre?”

Essar let out a short laugh at the term. “Not most of them, no, but… I was involved with Lorcan for awhile. He never let his guard down the whole time,”

Aelin’s brows shot up her forehead. “You… and Lorcan Salvaterre?”

“You seem surprised,”

“Well, I’ve never met him, but the stories I’ve heard…” Aelin trailed off, thinking of the cold, dangerous male that Rowan or the other warriors of the north spoke of. She never would have guessed that the kind, bright female beside her would ever tangle with him.

“Yes, well…” Essar’s face darkened in a blush. “It is not easy to care for a male like him,”

Aelin knew she was trying to get her to say something about her relationship with Rowan, but she wouldn’t. 

“That doesn’t seem to stop Lady Remelle,” Aelin teased, forcing more humor in her voice to hide the bitterness she really felt. Let Essar think she didn’t see red when the pale-haired female cooed and flirted with him. It was better that way. 

Essar waved a dismissive hand through the air. “Remelle doesn’t truly care for Prince Rowan, not really. She is simply annoyed of being jilted, thinks highly enough of herself that she thinks she can win him back,”

Essar, it seemed, didn’t think as highly of Remelle. 

“I’ve heard rumors…” Essar continued in a whisper, as if she were saying the greatest secret. “That Dorian Havilliard will be traveling here by the end of winter. Now, I don’t always put faith into these tales but… they say that a marriage alliance is inevitable!”

Aelin blinked, trying not to seem surprised. The whispers of a marriage between her and Dorian had trailed her practically since her birth. But the fact that the rumors have now spread so far… perhaps there was something bigger behind his future visit than Aelin originally expected.

“Well, I don’t know about that…” Aelin said.

But…

It made sense. Aelin was at a marriageable age, and once her training with Rowan had finished, once they had completed her bargain… there was nothing holding her back. Orlon was growing older and weaker as the seasons passed. It would make sense that he would like to see Aelin married before he passed. It would only better the deal that it would solidify a powerful alliance.

Perhaps, by this time next year, Aelin would be married.

“I think it’s about time we get some lunch,” the princess said at length, rubbing at her finger, trying to get rid of the phantom weight of a ring that she didn’t yet wear.

…

Rowan hadn’t seen Aelin all day.

He had been swept away at first light by Remelle who had begged him to show her around the fortress. He was beginning to regret offering his help to Orlon, wishing he had stayed hidden in his rooms. The damned female wouldn’t stop talking. She gossiped to him about the nobility back in Doranelle, about his cousins, about people who he was fairly certain he had never even met.

Rowan tried to reel in his anger as he watched the way she sneered at the sights and people around her. Terrasen was different from the City of Rivers, but no less beautiful. Remelle, however, didn’t seem to enjoy it much. 

The sun had dipped below the trees before he saw Aelin.

She was already seated for dinner, speaking to Essar. Lord Benson was nowhere to be seen, much to Rowan’s satisfaction. He didn’t care where he had slithered off to, just as long as he wasn’t beside Aelin. He didn’t trust the gleam he had seen in his eye.

The princess didn’t even spare him a second glance as he sat down across from her. It was for the better, he had to keep on reminding himself, but it hurt far more than he expected.

He didn’t know how he made it through that dinner, barely listening to Remelle, watching Aelin pointedly ignore him. Once these guests had left, he would find time to speak to her alone, to hear what was on her mind. But it couldn’t be now.

Aelin seemed… off tonight, as if her mind were elsewhere. She smiled and responded when she needed to, but when she thought no one was looking, her eyes would glaze over as if she were looking through the stone walls, far away, while she absentmindedly rubbed at her finger. He wasn’t sure what that was about. Perhaps something had happened, something she hadn’t shared with him and-

“Rowan, could you walk me to my rooms, please? I’ve grown rather weary,” Remelle said, drawing him out of his thoughts. 

Rowan refrained from sighing and nodded, pushing up from his seat and bidding goodnight to Orlon before stepping from the dining room, Remelle at his side.

“I regret to leave you after such short time together,” she lamented, rose petal lips contorting into what was obviously a fake pout. Looking at her now, Rowan truly couldn’t fathom why he had ever taken her to bed.

Rowan simply hummed noncommittally.

“You never visit anymore,” she continued.

“I’m busy, Remelle,” Rowan said with more bite than what would be considered polite.

Her face twisted into unpleasantness, slowing to a stop in an empty stretch of hall. “I suppose you are… busy with the princess,”

Rowan turned to her. “What is it you mean, Remelle?”

“Just that you’re training her, of course!” she said innocently, before shrugging. A malicious gleam flashed in her ice-chip eyes before she switched to the Old Language. “What other intentions would you have with a half-breed slut of a princess?”

“Watch your tongue,” Rowan growled with enough fury that Remelle leaned back, surprise lighting her face. 

Her head cocked to the side as she assessed him, the tightness he held in his body, the clench of his jaw. Had she been a male, those vile words she spoke would have been an invitation for violence. 

“Rowan…” she whispered, a careful smile on her face as she changed tactics. She took a step forward, placing a hand on his arm. “Surely you haven’t grown  _ fond  _ of this girl?”

His eyes skipped down to the pale hand resting against his arm, her very touch reviling him. “Take your hand off me,”

Remelle was clearly offended, but didn’t remove her hand. “Rowan, I-”

“I  _ believe  _ Prince Rowan just requested that you take your hand off him, Lady Remelle,”

Rowan looked towards the voice, finding Aelin slowly stalking towards them, each step as careful and laced with violence as those of a big cat, circling its prey. There was a hard gleam in her eyes, still not looking at him, but rather Remelle.

“You must have misheard him,” the princess continued with a tiny smirk that nearly asked for a fight.

But Remelle was smart enough to know that this was a fight that she would not win. She snatched her hand back to her side. 

“My mistake,” she sniffed.

Aelin barely blinked as she locked Remelle in place with her steely eyes. She looked every bit the future queen she was as she stood there, shoulders back, head held high, face as cool as marble. She managed to pin down a female as prideful as Remelle with just a gaze. 

“Do you need me to find someone to escort you to your suite?” Aelin asked evenly, though Rowan heard the threat behind the words.  _ Move or you will be removed. _

Remelle’s lips tightened a fraction of an inch. “No, your highness. Goodnight,”

With that, she sharply turned away and marched down the halls. 

Rowan looked down at Aelin, whose eyes burned into Remelle’s back until she disappeared from sight. Even then, it took a few moments for that stunning face to soften, for her jaw to unclench and her shoulders to relax. She huffed out one final breath before she finally,  _ finally,  _ turned those brilliant eyes to him, quirking a well-groomed brow.

“She’s delightful,”

Rowan chuckled wryly. “I’m surprised I made it through the past two days,”

She smiled, nothing more than a twitch of the corners of her mouth. She wet her lips before turning to face him fully, eyes skipping to the ground.

“I’m sorry, for the other day,” she rasped. “I’m not angry with you, I was angry at Maeve and I just wasn’t thinking. Forgive me,”

Rowan shook his head softly, reaching out to cup her jaw and tilt her gaze towards him. “There’s nothing to forgive.”

A watery grin as she covered his hand with hers and leaned into his touch. 

“I hated not being with you,” Aelin admitted. “Hated pretending that I was indifferent towards you, not talking to you…”

“You’re quite the actress, I thought I had done something to make you cross with me,”

She shook his head. “No, I was cross with myself,” 

With that, she stepped into his arms, wrapping her own around his middle and pressing her cheek against his chest. His fingers tangled into her unbound hair, resting his chin on top her golden head. She didn’t know how much she savored this, the feeling of her against him, her steady warmth. Gods, what would he do without her?

He didn’t know how long they stood there in that silent hall, listening to each other’s breaths and the steady beat of their hearts. But, eventually, Aelin pulled back and peered at something over his shoulder. Her lips parted and her eyes grew wide as her fingers twined with his and she tugged him towards the wide window.

“Look, Rowan!” she breathed, pointing at the glass. “The first snows!”

He followed her gaze outside, towards the vast terrain of her homelands, finding fat white snowflakes drifting from the clouds and steadily covering the treetops and cold grounds. It was beautiful and calming.

“I always love watching the first snows,” Aelin said, voice barely above a whisper as if it would disturb the sight. “Before the blizzards start and it’s too rutting cold to enjoy it, and it's soft and quiet.”

Yes, Rowan supposed it was quite the sight, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the princess, from that beautifully serene look on her face. 

Aelin leaned into his side, tucking herself right under his arm. She was too focused on the sight before her to note the smile on his face as he draped that arm over her shoulders, content to hold her in silence and watch the snow fall.

…

The next morning, Aelin stood on the snowy ground, wearing a fur-lined cloak and saying goodbye to their guests. She would only really be sad to see Essar go. The others… well, Remelle was glaring at her with the rage of a thousand men while Benson wouldn’t even look her way. Good.

Aelin respectfully bobbed her head as they bowed and curtsied, looking apprehensively at the cloudy sky. It would most likely snow while they were on the road. Essar would be able to keep warm, but Aelin wondered if she would extend that courtesy to her companions. 

They took off on their fine horses, bundled up enough that Aedion and Ren snickered at them, at the foreigners unused to the winters. It was mild now, it would only get worse.

Aelin headed back to her rooms to change so she could get in some training with Rowan while there was still light. But, the Fae prince slipped to her side before she reached her doors.

“Why did Lord Benson seem so frightened of you?”

Aelin smirked. “Ask me again tonight,” Tonight, when they had traveled far enough away that she would be able to convince Rowan  _ not  _ to take off and slaughter the Fae lord for the indiscretion. 

Rowan squinted at her. “I’ll hold you to it,”

“I expect nothing less,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> new chapter for yall!  
> It feels so weird not writing every day anymore! ive just been so so busy, but I hope this chapter made up for the wait!  
> This story is currently number 3 in kudos (almost number 2!) in the throne of glass category and number 2 in comments so thank you guys so so much for that support! I would be writing this without yalls support.  
> Let me know what you all think! love hearing from you guys!


	29. Chapter 29

“How could you not tell me?!”

Aelin sighed from her spot at Rowan’s desk, fingertips digging into her temples as she tried to read the letter in her hand while the Fae Prince paced back and forth behind her. If he kept it up, he would wear a hole in the rug. Aelin didn’t care, it wasn’t her rug after all.

“Because you would react like this,” Aelin sighed.

A growl ripped through the air. “I knew there was something rotten with him. Benson had always been a rat. You should have come to me right away and I-”

“And you would have what?” Aelin snipped, turning towards the Fae prince with a raised, challenging brow. “Slaughtered him? Maimed him? Then what, Rowan? Maeve would have heard about that, no doubt,” she made a face. “I handled myself fine, you territorial bastard,”

Rowan grabbed the back of her wooden chair and spun it so she faced him, placing a hand on either wooden arm and leaning into her face, close enough that she could feel the heat of his breath. She watched him cock his head to the side as his eyes bored into hers, more predator in their depths than man. 

“I’m the territorial one?” he asked slowly.

Aelin didn’t back down from his hard gaze. “Yes,”

He seemed amused. “I’m quite sure you’re the one that sent Remelle running off with nothing but a withering stare and a veiled threat.”

“It’s not my fault that she is so easily spooked,”

“You glared at her quite often if I recall,”

“Because she was annoying! Honestly, Rowan I simply cannot fathom how you were ever lovers,”

“We didn’t do a lot of talking,”

Aelin made a loud noise of disgust, shoving Rowan’s face away from her own while he laughed. She went to turn back to her letter, but he caught her jaw within his hand, stopping her from looking away. She hoped he didn’t hear her breath hitch at his closeness.

“So I must suffer you speaking of Fenrys and I cannot mention a past lover?”

“I haven’t spoken of Fenrys in a long while,” she argued before biting her lip. “But I could tell you more if you’d like. He did this  _ wonderful  _ thing where’d he-”

Rowan slapped his hand over her mouth, which she promptly licked. The prince cursed and snatched his hand away, lips curled in distaste.

“Were you raised in a stable?”

“No, but I had an older cousin who bullied me when I was a child,” Aelin smirked. “But even as a child, Aedion was smarter than you because  _ he  _ would have immediately wiped his palm across my face for that. Three hundred years and you never learned that trick?”

“You’re insufferable,”

“You started it, and now I must end it. Quit your prattling so I may get back to my letter,”

“What does it say?”

Aelin picked up the letter, skimming over the writing. She felt Rowan standing behind her, looking over her shoulder.

“Manon say the war is nearly finished, that they’ve been successful in nearly every endeavour… thanks to our aid,”

“So it looks like you’ll soon have some friends in the west,” Rowan commented. “I hope you’re ready to have your halls filled with witches,”

“Of course I am. I think we’ll all have a grand time together,”

…

The snows continued to fall, thickly blanketing the landscapes of Terrasen. Aelin was now forced to wear fur-lined leathers and boots to keep warm, despite her powers of flame. If Rowan was ever cold, he never said anything, but Aelin was sure he was. The winters in Terrasen were harsher than anywhere else on the continent, let alone Doranelle, which, according to Rowan, had very mild winters. 

There were stretches of days, a week at most, where they would have to cancel training due to brutal blizzards, so thick that Aelin couldn’t see more than ten feet before her, even with keen Fae eyes.

She would spend most of those rare free days with her court. Sometimes, Rowan would join them, other days, he would tell her he spent in the library, taking the opportunity to browse such a vast well of knowledge. She supposed she could see the appeal, though part of her wondered how he hadn’t learned everything in the time he had been alive. Aelin was sure that if she lived that long she would have worked her way through every book in the library. 

She continued to receive letters from Manon about the war. If the witch’s words were to be believed, they were but a few short months away from victory. 

Aelin slung her cloak over her shoulder, brushing off any flakes of snow that may have gathered on it while she and Rowan trained. The snow was a few feet deep, so Aelin used a bit of magic to thaw a patch for them to train on. It was perhaps a little muddy, but far better than trudging through the snow.

“You  _ are  _ coming to the Yulemas ball and that is final!” Aelin snapped.

Rowan sighed as he clasped his own cloak over his shoulders. “I think you’ve coerced me to go to more balls and feasts than I’ve had to go to in the last century,” 

“Yes, I’m very convincing,” Aelin said. “But it’s  _ Yulemas!  _ And, we’ll be having Fae dignitaries from the settlements around Terrasen. Surely they would like to know you,”

“I doubt it,”

Aelin whirled on him, hands on her hips. “And if  _ I  _ want you there? Is that not enough reason?”

The Fae prince huffed out a breath, holding her down with a stare that would perhaps cause others to yield, but not her. Aelin needed only raise a brow to remind him that she would raise hell until he agreed. 

“Fine,” he ground out.

Aelin beamed. “At this point, Rowan, you really should just listen to me to begin with,”

A strong breeze rustled the evergreens above her, but no breeze from the mountain. She recognized Rowan’s power a heartbeat before the winds dislodged the large pile of snow that had been resting peacefully on the branches above, which then landed right on top her head.

Aelin let out a shuddering gasp at the sharp and sudden cold, at the snow that now seeped down her clothes and lingered in her hair. Her lips were parted in indignation as Rowan laughed. She quickly shook the snow from her hair and brushed it from her shoulders.

“ _ That  _ was unnecessary,” Aelin growled, narrowing her eyes at Rowan’s amused face, which simply pissed her off more. She scooped a handful of snow off a low-hanging branch, balling it, and sent it flying at Rowan’s face. The snow that splattered across his visage wiped away any entertainment from his features, though it added it to Aelin’s.

Oh, she had  _ definitely _ made him angry.

He summoned a ball of snow into his own palm, not hesitating before launching it at her. Aelin gave a shout as she turned to her side, the ball hitting her shoulder.

“Not fair!” Aelin cried.

“You should have thought of that,” Rowan taunted, throwing another at her.

Aelin loosed a filthy curse, using her cloak to shield her from the attacks.

“Rowan Whitethorn I swear if you throw another damned snowball I will burn your brows off!” the princess threatened. 

He already had another in his hand and held up threateningly. Aelin refrained from hissing her displeasure, sending a small thread of her power to melt the snow in his hand, watching as now-useless water drained from between his fingers. 

“Truce?” Aelin said tentatively as Rowan shook the water from his hand.

A stiff nod. “Truce,”

“Good,” Aelin said, breath condensing before her. “Now, can we head back? I’m freezing and I want to sit in my tub,”

“Such a creature of luxury. What do you do when you must travel without a tub?”

“Complain, mostly,”

…

As Yulemas crept closer, the fortress grew busier. Families and guests began to arrive for the holiday, from the Lord and Lady of Perranth, to young Evangeline, coming back from school to spend time with her mistress and the others of the court. 

Aelin beseeched Rowan for a day off from training to go into the city, when the weather was fair enough. She complained she needed to get shopping done for the holiday, to buy her court and family gifts. He allowed her the small freedom, not telling her that he also needed the day to conduct his own business. 

It would be a busy time for Orynth in the coming months. With the holiday, and the fact that the court of Adarlan visiting in the coming months, everyone was rushing around. Rowan, however, was growing used to the way mortals ran about. Perhaps a part of him was beginning to understand it better.

The time he had left in Orynth was short, and disappearing quickly. Once the winter had passed, he would be expected back in Doranelle. He would leave Terrasen, and he would be unlikely to return, unlikely to see Aelin again… and he feared what would happen if he  _ did.  _ If he were to see Aelin again after he departed, the circumstances wouldn’t be favorable. Would it be during warfare? Would she find her way to his continent, so close to Maeve? His queen surely wouldn’t send him back to Terrasen for a friendly visit. 

He now knew he had to make every moment here count. 

Every time he saw Aelin laugh, the way her nose would crinkle. Every time he woke up to her pressed against his side, trying to steal his warmth on cold mornings. Every time he saw that delightfully wicked gleam in her eyes, the way the cold air turned her cheeks pink… all those moments were now more precious to him than gold. 

Those were the thoughts that Rowan knew shouldn’t be plaguing him now, not when the halls were so full of joy. Even just outside his window, he could spot Aelin playing in the snow with Evangeline, Lysandra and Aedion watching fondly from the side. 

Rowan wanted to commit the sight to memory, the grin that was nearly too large for Aelin’s face as she bunched her thick skirts in her hands and chased the girl around the courtyard. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair messy as she scooped the girl up and spun her in her arms. He could hear Evangeline’s peals of laughter as Aelin set the girl back on the ground, a tiny smirk on her lips as she whispered something into her ear. Evangeline nodded vigorously before taking off across the snow and barreling into Aedion’s legs, knocking him onto his back. Aelin tossed her head back in laughter as the little girl piled snow onto her cousin’s face, Lysandra pitching in. 

Then, as if she could feel his eyes on her, Aelin looked up. She squinted her eyes playfully.  _ Nosy buzzard,  _ she seemed to say. 

He’d let her call him whatever she pleased.

…

The halls of Orynth had been decorated beautifully for Yulemas. Hundreds of warm, glowing candles scattered around, evergreens lining the walls with shining baubles entangled within. Every available fireplace had a burning blaze roaring within it to keep the guests of the castle warm during the frigid winter. 

Rowan was sure every available guest room had been filled. He had never seen so many folk meandering down the halls, mortal and immortal. Both unfamiliar humans and Fae gawked at him while he passed.

Rowan had watched as Aelin smiled and charmed all the guests, including the Fae who she had fought so hard to be included in such celebrations. Rowan could see the recognition and… happiness in their eyes when they looked at the princess and saw someone who they could relate to, could be familiar with. 

Rowan did his best to try and be sociable with the Fae guests. Most of them had heard of him before, were keen to see what their eastern kin were like, and then perhaps feel slightly intimidated once they glimpsed him. Aelin teased him endlessly about his courtly behavior.

Soon enough, Yulemas came about.

Rowan knew he wouldn’t get a moment alone with Aelin until nightfall. She was expected with her family through the morning and afternoon for, what Aelin referred to as,  _ gods-damned boring ceremonies.  _ He would see her for dinner that preceded the ball tonight. He was sure he wouldn’t get a chance to speak with her, not when she had so many guests to entertain. But, she would find her way to his rooms tonight.

The Fae prince simply wore the same tunic he had donned for Beltane, despite Aelin’s protests. It was a fine enough tunic, it could be worn to more than one occasion. 

The great hall was bursting with people and voices. It smelled of sweet spices and the savory aromas wafting from the kitchens, teasing the guests with what wonderful delights would wait for them once dinner was served. Now, courtiers and lords, generals and soldiers, spoke over glasses of wine and cider. The room was warm and happy and full of life.

Aelin arrived with her cousin and her uncle, the entire room slipping into silence and dipping into bows or curtsies out of respect. The king of Terrasen simply nodded his head and the room bounced back to life.

The princess wore a gown of light green, lined with silver furs on the collar, sleeves, and train. Her hair was elegantly twisted around a crown of evergreens, looking every bit the powerful queen of the north she would become. Through the throngs of people, her bright eyes found his and she flashed a smile. 

Although the food was delicious and the atmosphere jolly, Rowan did wish the whole ordeal to be over soon. He longed for those moments alone with the princess, where she was relaxed and her smiles genuine. 

The minstrels played from the corner of the room, the light notes dancing above the din of conversation and scrape of utensils on fine plates. Rowan spoke to those who spoke to him, never really one to instigate conversation. 

Then, the dinner turned into a ball, people twirling in flashes of silks and chiffon while the music swelled around them. Rowan couldn’t fathom how Aelin managed through all the dinners and balls she had to attend, smiling and charming those around her, dancing hundreds of dances.

She was an excellent dancer, graceful and lithe, just how she was when she fought. He supposed the dancing in itself was a battle of its own. Verbal sparring, flashing of grins and batting of lashes. Each move was as thought-out as his maneuvers during wartime. He could watch her all night, for both the ways she moved and the cunning in her eyes. 

He could be patient.

…

Aelin loved Yulemas. The food and drink, the smell of pine and cinnamon, having her friends and family near her, smiling and laughing, safe and content. She enjoyed giving her friends gifts, always determined to out-do herself every year. There was nothing she loved more than seeing the look on their faces when they opened the gifts that she had selected.

But, she could do without how busy the day kept her. From the morning ceremonies and traditions with her family bleeding into a feast and ball, she hadn’t had a second to breathe, let alone a moment to speak with Rowan or even wish him a happy Yulemas. She had been up before him that morning, and she was sure he wouldn’t have minded her waking him, but he had looked so peaceful. The way his face was softened, lips parted ever so slightly, his silver hair messy and gleaming in the morning light… she had just propped her head up and watched him for longer than she cared to admit. She wondered how many had the luxury of seeing Rowan Whitethorn in such a state of peace. 

She had reached out and brushed away an unruly piece of hair from his handsome face before she tore herself from bed to prepare herself for the long day.

And now… she had been trying to reach him all night. Just to talk with him, even for a moment. But, through dinner she was kept thoroughly occupied until the ball began. Between dances she had tried her damndest to make her way towards him, without success. Men brought her wine, danced with her, and kept her thoroughly occupied. But they weren’t who she wanted to be with. She wanted to drink and speak with Rowan, to perhaps convince him to share a dance with her. She was sure he would protest, but Aelin knew she could be  _ very  _ convincing. She wondered if he could dance with the same careful, deadly gracefulness as he fought. He surely had the footwork.

But, Aelin was unable to reach him. If she managed two steps towards the Fae prince, she was dragged back three by one of the copious guests. 

Still, there had been good that had come out of the evening. The Fae dignitaries were there, mingling. Aelin was able to speak with nearly all of them. 

But, eventually the night came to an end. Those who had too much wine stumbled off to bed, others shuffling off with heavy eyes, trying to make the day last as long as possible. 

Rowan had already departed by the time Aelin left. She assumed he would be in his rooms by now, preparing for the night. She bid goodnight to her family and friends before starting down the halls to her rooms, feet sore in her fine slippers. 

The halls were mostly empty. Aelin could hear faint voices or off-key singing from other parts of the fortress, but they were soft. There were very few who were awake at this hour after a long day of merriment. 

As Aelin came upon the doors of her room, she heard noise from inside. The scuff of boots over stone. There was someone in there. Her body tensed as her lifted the hem of her gown, giving her access to the blade strapped to her ankle. She took the handle into her palm, the Fae silver gleaming in the torch light. Aelin’s magic readied itself beneath her skin as she pushed open the doors to her chambers.

But the scent was familiar, as was the broad silhouette framed by the cold light of the moon.

“Gods, Rowan,” Aelin sighed, shutting the door behind her as the Fae prince turned towards her. “You frightened me,”

He looked down to the blade in her hands, the blade he had given her years ago. “You seemed prepared,”

“I’m always prepared,” Aelin murmured, placing the dagger on her dresser. With half a thought, a fire sprung to life in her hearth as she planted herself before the Fae prince, grinning and embracing him. “Happy Yulemas,”

She felt the chuckled rumble in his chest as his arms wrapped around her shoulders. “Happy Yulemas, Fireheart,”

Aelin was content to stay there while Rowan’s nimble fingers carefully picked out the pins from her hair, allowing it to tumble freely down her back. He took the crown of evergreens from her head, placing it beside the knife of the dresser. 

“I have something for you…” Aelin said, detangling herself from Rowan and striding to the table beside her bed, opening the drawer and pulling out a simple, black box. She handed it to the Fae prince, nibbling on her bottom lip as he slowly opened it. “I’m almost loathe to give it to you, since I’m sure you have plenty already…”

Rowan lifted a small blade from the velvet-lined box, pulling the knife from the thick, leather sheath. He turned it over in his hand, running an appraising eye over the weapon, the tips of his fingers skimming over the decorative carvings in the steel, the hilt marked with the stag of Terrasen crowned in flame.

“It’s more ceremonial than anything,” Aelin said. “Made by the smith who has made all of my blades. Perhaps not as fantastic as the Fae dagger but-”

“It’s wonderful, Aelin,” Rowan cut her off with a smile, sliding the blade back into the sheath. “It’s a beautiful weapon,”

Aelin felt relief pour through her. She had worried and fretted over what to get the Fae prince, who didn’t like finery or sweets, who had lived hundreds of years and probably owned everything he would ever need. So, she got him something he would at least use, and something to remind him of the north. Of her.

“I’ve got something for you as well,” Rowan spoke softly, hand dipping into his pocket and pulling out a small, satin bag. He placed it into her palm.

Aelin pulled at the tiny ties, loosening it enough to pull out a delicate, silver chain from which held a pendant, no larger than a copper coin. The pendant was deep green and bore the image of a screeching hawk, elegant lettering in the Old Language encircling it. 

“It’s  _ beautiful, _ ” Aelin breathed, running her fingers over the charm. Her eyes flashed up to Rowan. “What is this image?”

“It’s the crest of my house,” is what Rowan told her.

_ To remember me by when I’m gone,  _ is what he didn’t need to say.

Aelin felt her heart throb, but she tried to bat the feeling away. There was no place for any sorrow on a night like this. So, she worked a smile to her lips.

“I love it. Help me put it on?”

Rowan nodded, taking the necklace from her hand as she turned her back to him. Her heart pounded against her ribs as he brushed her hair over her shoulder, breath hitching as calloused fingers skimmed her skin. She hoped Rowan thought the shiver that went down her spine had to do with the cold metal against her neck rather than his touch, or the feeling of his breath.

“There,” Rowan rasped once he had clasped the necklace, taking a step back. Aelin instantly missed his warmth.

She turned back to him, fingering the pendant that hung between her breasts. She truly would treasure it. Though it wasn’t encrusted in jewels or gold like the other items spilling from her jewelry box, this was now her most valuable piece. 

Aelin glanced out her window, at the white landscape that sprawled beyond it. She would never grow tired of the sight of her home, no matter how long she may live.

“I wish it would snow,” Aelin mused, taking a few steps closer to the window, so she could see the beautiful ferns of frost spreading across the glass.

“In case you haven’t noticed, it’s been snowing quite often recently. Blizzards, in fact,” Rowan teased, coming to her side.

Aelin made a face at his dry humor. “I  _ mean  _ that I want there to be a soft snowfall. There hasn’t been one on Yulemas in a long while. There’s either a raging blizzard or.. . this,”

Nothing was said for a few moments as she continued to look over the snowy desert of the lands she would soon rule over. She squeezed the pendant, the metal becoming warm in her palm.

At first, she thought she imagined it, the white flash before her eyes. But then it happened again, and again as flakes of snow began to fall in her very own room. She blinked rapidly in confusion as she held out a palm, letting the flakes land on her flesh and melt. It didn’t seem possible, but…

She looked towards Rowan, saw that little smirk on his face. 

Even after so long, he managed to surprise her, to make her feel like no one else could. As she watched him through the falling snow, she knew the answer to a question she hadn’t known she’d been asking.

…

Snow of Rowan’s own making drifted from the ceiling, getting caught in her golden hair and on her delicate lashes. She beamed at him, at the magics he was using. He would do anything to keep her smiling like that. 

Rowan didn’t know what possessed him as he looked at the princess, but he held out a hand, dipping into a small bow. He watched as her face scrunched in confusion before melting into delight once she realized what he intended. She bobbed into a brief curtsey, taking his hand and placing her other on his shoulder while he held her hip.

They didn’t have a true dance, couldn’t even if they wanted to with the space provided in the room. They simply held one another close and swayed to the sound of the fire and the whistling winds through the Staghorns. 

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her stunning face as they moved, counting her freckles and watching as the gold around her pupils glowed in the firelight. The fat flakes of snow brushed against the curve of her cheeks, one landing on her plump bottom lip. Rowan reached out, brushing away the stray flake. Aelin inhaled sharply at that whisper of a touch, eyes fluttering shut.

Rowan knew he could do it, close the distance between them, press his lips against hers. It would barely take half a movement, such a small move for such large implications. His hand cradled her jaw tenderly as they continued to sway. Her breathing was uneven as he leaned in closer. He could do it.

But he didn’t.

He pressed his lips to her forehead, and he felt Aelin release a long breath. His own eyes closed as he lingered like that, holding her close, breathing in her scent. Once he pulled away, Aelin simply rested her head against his chest.

Rowan didn’t know how long they stood like that, swaying against each other, but he wished it would last forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> new chapter! feels like forever since I posted last! thank you for being patient for me!  
> On my document, I'm nearly 400 pages in to this story! I still got a lot left to tell so I hope you all want to stick with me!  
> Let me know what yall think of the chapter. Thank you so so much for all the support!


	30. Chapter 30

Aelin moaned as Rowan’s fingers dug into her skin. Her eyes screwed shut, teeth biting her bottom lip as she threw her head back. He was delightfully skilled, hitting that  _ one  _ spot where she needed him to. She sucked down a sharp gasp, back arching as his thumbs pushed down harder and-

“It wouldn’t hurt so bad if you had stretched after we trained,” Rowan murmured.

“Shut up,” Aelin growled through clenched teeth, shooting the Fae warrior a sharp look of reproach as he tried to soothe a knot that had formed in her shoulder earlier that evening. 

Rowan chuckled at her reaction, rubbing his thumbs over the spot that had been bothering her. Aelin wouldn’t have said anything if he hadn’t noticed how she had been shifting her shoulder in discomfort all evening, finally convincing her to let him help. She had finally agreed, peeling off her shirt and seating herself in his desk chair while he soothed her sore muscles.

“Does that feel any better?” Rowan asked as Aelin let out a little sigh. Gods, the noises she had been making… his self-control was nearly in shreds. 

She nodded. “Yes, much. Thank you,”

Aelin stood, snatching up what she would be wearing tonight and disappearing behind the changing curtain. She appeared a heartbeat later in one of Rowan’s shirts, large enough on her frame that she was practically swimming in it. In Rowan’s opinion, she looked very good in it.

The princess crawled into bed, Rowan joining her a moment later. 

“You think I can convince you to do that every night?” Aelin asked, flashing him a smile.

“And what would I get in return?”

“You get to continue receiving my dazzling company,”

Rowan scoffed out a laugh while Aelin giggled to herself. He cherished the sound, the flash of her dimples, the way her hair spilled over her pillow in golden waves. She still wore the necklace he had gifted her on Yulemas, it was rare that he saw her without it swaying from her neck. It filled him with inexplicable happiness to see it on her.

It had been months since the holiday, since they had danced in the privacy of her rooms, since Rowan had stopped himself from kissing her as the snow clung to her lashes. The airs had begun to warm as spring neared, the snow melting and turning the ground muddy. Rowan didn’t have much time left in this kingdom. Once the spring was in full-bloom, he would be on a ship back to Doranelle.

“Your friends from Adarlan will be here within the week,” Rowan commented.

“Orynth will be very busy,”

“You’ve known Dorian for a very long time, haven’t you?”

Aelin nodded. “I met him for the first time when I was eight, we’ve visited one another every few years since then,”

“And… he’s your friend?”

She turned to him, brows knitting together. “Yes, a good friend of mine. Why, are you jealous?”

Rowan dug his elbow into her side at her teasing, the princess doing the same right back.

“You haven’t anything to be jealous about with Dorian, at least,” Aelin continued.

Rowan narrowed her eyes at her slightly before quirking a brow. The princess made a face, realizing she had revealed more than she had meant to. She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“I was… involved with the captain of the royal guard for a bit,” Aelin said slowly, voice growing soft. “After Sam. I didn’t fall in love with Chaol, but he is my friend too,”

Aelin had never mentioned him before. Rowan knew she was under no obligation to tell him about her past lovers, he never spoke about his. Most likely because it happened at a dark point in her life. There was no doubt that Aelin cared for the man, but if things had been different, perhaps she never would have found her way to his bed. 

They slipped into silence. Rowan watched as she fiddled with the pendant around her neck, jaw clenched as she looked out the window at the dwindling snows.

“Spring is coming,” she whispered, though she didn’t hold joy in her voice at the thought as some might when faced with warmer days and growing flowers. 

“Yes…” Rowan rasped, the same sinking feeling in his chest that must be in Aelin’s. He didn’t have much longer here. “What will you do once you don’t have to train every day?”

Aelin shrugged. “Continue to prepare for the throne, probably get married eventually,” 

Marriage. The thought shouldn’t shake him as much as it did. Aelin was a princess of a powerful nation, a beautiful one at that with powerful magic. It was only logical that others would desire a marriage alliance. He could only hope that whatever man was lucky enough to have her as his bride would treat her well, would make her happy.

“And you? What will you do once you don’t have to train me anymore?” Aelin asked.

“Whatever Maeve bids me to do,” Rowan said.

Aelin pressed her lips together in a tight line at the mention of her aunt. “Will you write me? When you’re not traveling and winning wars?”

“Of course, Fireheart,” Rowan vowed. “Whenever I can,”

“If she ever sends you to the continent, let me know. I’ll find you,”

He smiled a sad smile, running his hand over her cheek. “I know you will,”

…

Aelin was buzzing with excitement as she stood outside the gates of Orynth. Today was the day. The court of Adarlan would be arriving any moment, she would get to see her friends again after over a year of separation. Of course, she had kept up with them through letters, but it wasn’t the same as being with them, laughing and joking. It would be better than the last time, when she had been sad and angry and broken. She had healed since then, with her court and Rowan.

She could see the party ambling down the road, closer and closer. Aelin spotted the King, Dorian Senior, riding beside Queen Georgina who was decked in heavy skirts as usual. She spotted Dorian, his dark locks blown by the wind, sparkling sapphire eyes finding hers with a smile. Chaol was riding next to him, ever the faithful guard, flashing her a grin of his own.

They were  _ here.  _

The grand delegation came to a stop before the royal family of Orynth. The king and queen dismounted from their steeds, others following suit. Aelin and Aedion curtsied and bowed respectively before the rulers of their southern neighbors, Orlon simply nodding in recognition and grinning broadly at those who had become friends over the years. Her uncle clasped hands with the King.

“Welcome, again, my friends,” Orlon greeted. 

“We’re happy to be back,” the King replied. 

“Oh, Aelin, haven’t you’ve grown even more stunning!” Queen Georgina cooed, brushing her lips against either of the princess’s cheeks.

“Thank you, your majesty,” Aelin said. She’d always liked Dorian’s mother. She was perhaps a little empty-headed, but sweet. Aelin looked to the young men beside her, lips stretched in a smile. “Dorian, Chaol. You both look well,”

It was much more laid back of a greeting than Aelin would have liked. If there weren’t customs and propriety to uphold, she would have launched herself at the boys and enveloped them in a huge hug. There would be a time for that later, when the lords and courtiers of both of their courts weren’t watching them with critical eyes. 

Chaol bowed at the waist while Dorian simply dipped his chin. 

“Princess, may I say you look even better,” the prince said.

Aelin laughed before her eye was caught by a smaller frame standing beside Dorian. She tried to hold back her sneer as she looked at his atrocious younger brother. 

“Holland,” said the princess dryly.

The young boy didn’t dare meet Aelin’s eye, but bowed quickly nonetheless. He used to delight in taunting her when she came to Adarlan, teasing and bothering her as he did to Dorian. That is, until one day, Aelin’s patience ran dry and she snapped. Holland swore she spat fire at him, but Aelin vehemently denied that. But, whatever happened that day, the younger prince was now absolutely mortified of her. 

“Let’s get you out of the cold,” Orlon announced, waving their guests into their halls.

Dorian offered her his arm, which Aelin took, while Chaol stood on her other side. 

“I hope your travels were well?” Aelin asked, making polite small talk until they could be on their own.

“It was uneventful, but I always forget how rutting cold it is up here,” Chaol commented.

She subtly nudged him with her elbow. “You big baby, it’s nearly spring! Aedion wanted to go swimming yesterday,”

They stepped inside the halls of Orynth, warmed by the countless blazing fires that were lit. 

“Aelin, would you show these young men to their rooms?” Orlon asked.

“Of course, uncle,” she said, nodding her head down the hall. “If you would follow me…”

They didn’t say anything for a while as the sound of voices faded away, waiting until they rounded a corner and faded out of view and found a quiet stretch of hall before they slowed to a stop. Aelin let go of Dorian’s arm and took a step back so she could face them both, get a good look at their faces. They looked good, happy, well-rested if not perhaps slightly harried from the trip. Their eyes were bright, handsome faces twisted in smiles.

Aelin released a joyful laugh and threw herself at the young men, with nearly enough force to knock them all to the ground. But, they managed to stay on their feet as they embraced. 

“It’s so wonderful to see you two again!” Aelin grinned. “It’s been far too long,”

“Indeed,” Dorian said, reaching out a resting a palm against her cheek. “Happiness looks good on you, my friend,”

Aelin could have shed tears for the kindness and earnestly on his face. The last time he had seen her, she had been a wreck but now… she  _ was  _ happy, remarkably so with the help of her friends and court and Rowan. There was a time when she had thought she would never be able to return from the darkness she had been under, but she had, and had come out stronger.

“Thank you,” Aelin whispered, sucking down a steadying breath so she wouldn’t, in fact, cry. It was much too happy an occasion for such things. Instead, she planted herself between the two men, linking elbows with them as they continued down the hall. “Now, you two  _ must  _ tell me everything! What’s been going on in the Glass Castle since I’ve left?”

“Same as always,” Dorian said dismissively. “What we want to hear about is  _ you.  _ Is Rowan Whitethorn here?”

“Aye,” Aelin nodded.

“Where is he?” Chaol asked, glancing around as if the Fae prince was hidden in some alcove somewhere.

“Probably hiding in his suite,” Aelin said. It was, after all, where she had left him this morning. “He’s not one for politics and manners,”

“I must say, I’m excited to finally meet him,” Dorian said. “After all your  _ descriptive  _ letters over the years,”

Aelin felt her cheeks flush, remembering the letters she had written to Dorian and Chaol when she was younger and pissed off. She no longer believed most of what she had said, though, she supposed, some of it till held true.

“He’s not like that anymore, I told you,” Aelin said sternly. 

“So he’s  _ not  _ a mean old bastard?” Chaol asked, raising a teasing brows as he quoted some of the descriptions she used to use.

“Shh!” Aelin hissed, knowing that voices carried in the halls and Rowan had sensitive hearing. “He can still be mean, but only when I piss him off,”

“Do you make a habit of doing that?”

“Pretty much every day,”

“Aren’t you supposed to be training?” Chaol asked.

“I convinced Rowan to give me the day off so I can catch up with you two!” Aelin said before squeezing both their arms hard enough to know she meant business. “Also, if either of you two tell Rowan what I used to write about him in my letters, I will make your lives miserable,”

Aelin tugged to two over to the parlor. Her friends would be joining them eventually, but she selfishly wanted the boys to herself for some time. They lounged around the plush armchairs and cushions, the princess tending a fire in the hearth while they caught up.

Dorian told her about his developments in magic, showing her some tricks he had been picking up. He used his magic far more sparingly than Aelin did, not having a teacher well-versed in his kind of magic. Perhaps she would ask Rowan to show him a few things. Dorian was able to summon the elements, had been fine-tuning his skill over time. He could also move things on phantom hands without being near them, a skill Aelin wished she possessed she so didn’t have to get up to grab things. 

Dorian and Chaol caught her up on the court happenings in Adarlan, about the mischief they had gotten up to in the palace and sneaking out into the city. Dorian lamented about how bothersome his brother and mother could be, Chaol rolling his eyes at his friend’s dramatics.

“Any new women in your lives I should be knowing about?” Aelin asked, raising her brows suggestively from where her head rested in Dorian’s lap.

“You know me,” the prince sighed. “I just leave behind a trail of broken hearts. When will you allow me to break  _ your _ heart, fair maiden?” he asked, peering down at the girl.

Aelin scoffed. “Keep dreaming, my friend,”

Dorian had flirted with her since he had learned what flirting is. It was harmless, done more for teasing than anything. Aelin knew he had no serious interest in her romantically.

“My Lord Chaol? What about you?” Aelin asked, craning her head slightly to get a better look at the captain of the guard.

His tanned skin flushed, instantly piquing Aelin’s interest as she sat bolt upright. “You  _ do  _ have a lady friend! Come on, tell me about her!”

Chaol dragged a hand down his face, bracing himself for the conversation. Much like Rowan, he was slow to speak about his feelings.

“Her name’s Yrene,” he began tentatively. “She’s a healer from Fenharrow, just recently back from studying with the healers at the Torre Cesme. She’s the head healer at the palace now,”

“What does she look like?”

“Oh, she’s very beautiful,” Dorian answered for his friend, smirking at how it pissed him off. “The most stunning golden-brown eyes you’ve ever seen, and amazing curls, besides the-”

“Yes, thank you, Dorian,” Chaol ground out. 

“Well, she sounds lovely,” Aelin said. “I hope I can meet her soon. I’m happy for you, Chaol,”

And she was, truly, completely, happy for her friend. Chaol was a good man, he deserved someone who could make him happy, someone like this Yrene. 

“And what about you, Aelin?” Dorian asked. “Has a special someone managed to steal away your heart?”

Subconsciously, her hand drifted to the pendant that dangled from her neck. She knew the answer to his question clear as day, but it wasn’t something she could say aloud.

“No, no man has been lucky enough to ensnare my heart,” Aelin sighed, draping herself back down on the plush couch. 

Not long later, the rest of Aelin’s court arrived in the parlor, bringing food and drink and conversation. Aelin thoroughly enjoyed the company and the time with those she loved, but Dorian’s question lingered in the back of her mind all night, and her thoughts strayed to the Fae prince somewhere in the fortress.

…

It was close to midnight by the time Aelin came to Rowan’s rooms. The Fae prince had already prepared himself for bed, sitting at his worktable and skimming over reports Lorcan had sent him concerning the state of things in Doranelle. Everything seemed to be going smoothly, at least he knew he wouldn’t be returning to chaos.

Returning…

Rowan had a little over a month left in Terrasen. The snow was already melting, turning to dirty slush. Soon, the first shoots of spring would begin poking out of the thawed ground. He would leave Orynth, leave Aelin… it was a reality he was having a harder and harder time facing. 

As if his thoughts summoned her, Aelin pushed through the little stone door. She smelled heavily of jasmine and rose, most likely just out of the bath. She had already changed into one of her many nightgowns, a warm robe tossed over it for the time being. She smiled in greeting.

“Long day?” Rowan asked, watching from the corner of his eye as Aelin plopped down on the bed.

“Gods, yes. My friends refused to let me leave!”

“I’m sure hanging about with your friends is very tiring,”

Aelin propped her head up on her elbow, squinting her eyes at him. “I’ll have you know that it takes a good deal of energy to be so charming and smart and witty all the time,”

Rowan snorted softly, turning around to face her. There was a healthy flush to her cheeks, a brightness in her eyes although they were tired. “You look happy,”

“I am,” she said. “It’s been far too long since I’ve seen Dorian and Chaol. I’ve missed them greatly,”

Rowan was glad to see her like this, less worry one her face, more joy. He wished she would feel like this all the time.

“They want to meet you, you know,” Aelin drawled, kicking off her slippers and shrugging off her robe as she climbed under the heavy quilts.

“Is that so?” Rowan asked, pushing to his feet and padding to his side of the bed. Aelin’s eyes never left his as he lowered himself beside her. “They’re welcome to come to train with us. That is, if they can keep up,”

Aelin laughed. “Their pride would never allow them to admit otherwise,”

Rowan looked at the princess fondly. “I look forward to meeting your friends,”

“Don’t act so polite around them. They think you’re a grumpy old bastard,”

“Oh? And what would cause them to think such a thing?”

“I couldn’t possibly fathom!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another little update for yall! I live in florida so classes got cancelled for dorian so I had time to write. and what a coincidence that because of hurricane dorian, I was able to post the chapter where we get to see dorian!  
> we reached 800 kudos! in my document, I have over 400 pages written, we're almost at 10,000 hits, and we're #1 in comments!!!! that last one is all thanks to yalls WONDERFUL support!! I don't reply to most comments because when I see that number, I like to know that I earned it from yall!!!!! so thank you guys so so much for your continued support.  
> I feel like I say this every chapter, but the support I got on this story is so surreal. I never expected it to take off like this. I never thought people would reread my stories, would be excited for updates, so this is just super awesome.  
> I hope you all like the chapter. Let me know what you think!!! <3


	31. Chapter 31

The next morning, Rowan and Aelin began their mornings with their customary sprint through the forest. It was a good way to warm up on a brisk morning, to get their limbs loose and blood pumping. 

Rowan knew the princess had invited her friends to join them for training, but neither of the men would be able to keep up with them on their run. So, they would circle back towards the fortress and train closer to the gates. While they waited for their guests, they began to spar casually, chatting as they moved.

“Are they any good with a blade?” Rowan asked, checking away one of Aelin’s strikes.

“Chaol is captain of the guard, so he knows his way around the sword pretty well. Dorian has trained as well, but he doesn’t keep up with his training as much as he should,”

“And his magic?”

“Well, he’s been practicing,” Aelin said, sweeping for his feet but not quite catching him. “But he hasn’t had a real teacher. Raw magic is so rare after all,”

She was right. Even in all of Rowan’s years, he had only encountered raw magic perhaps once, only heard rumors of it a handful of times. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like the handle that caliber of power without a proper teacher. It was probably frightening at times. Even Aelin, who he had trained for years, had been frightened of her magic and she had been fortunate enough to have a teacher that had magic that understood her own. 

Eventually, their sparring was interrupted the sound to two sets of feet crunching over dead leaves and the few remaining piles of melting snow. Two male scents, both unfamiliar to Rowan, but not to Aelin judging by the smile that split her face.

Gods, she really did look happy. Aelin went up to the two men and hugged them both in greeting. 

Rowan watched the easy familiarity between the three. They were truly good friends, got along splendidly as they instantly broke out into quick rapport. Aelin… it was easy for her to be with them, to laugh and spend time with the men. And Rowan… Rowan could never be that person. It would never be easy for them, even being her friend was difficult. They had to be careful about what affections they showed, had to keep one another at arms length.

She and the captain stood beside one another with an ease that came with knowing each other intimately, though they weren’t blatantly flirting with one another. No, it was a respectful, friendly teasing. Aelin had said she didn’t love the captain, but she didn’t say that didn’t  _ lust  _ for him. 

And even the young prince… they looked at one another fondly.

It would be easy for her to love him. There was no oath binding the raven-haired man to a wicked queen across the sea, no reason to tip-toe around her as Rowan had to do.

Dorian would be good for her.

So why did he want to rip the prince away from Aelin so godsdamned badly? 

He was making her smile and laugh, one of those true smiles that made her nose scrunch, not one of the practiced court grins she threw around every day. Dorian said something to her that made her toss her head back in laughter, shoving his shoulder playfully. 

_ Friends, _ Rowan reminded himself when he felt the sudden, strong urge to bare his teeth.  _ Aelin said that they were just friends. _

“Rowan!” Aelin called, dragging him out of his thoughts. “May I introduce Prince Dorian Havilliard and Captain Chaol Westfall,”

“It’s an honor to meet you, Prince Whitethorn,” Dorian said, flashing a grin that oozed practiced court grace and charm. He glanced to Aelin, quirking a brow. “We’ve heard  _ so much  _ about you,”

Aelin narrowed her eyes, daring him. Rowan was sure she had written some pretty colorful things about him when she was younger. 

“I’m sure you have,” Rowan said, casting a pointed look at Aelin. She made an obscene gesture in response that had the captain blinking rapidly in a mix of surprise and horror.

Rowan clasped forearms with both men, murmuring his greetings.

“Well?” Aelin said, looking back and forth between her mortal friends. “Are you two ready to have your asses kicked?”

“You sound mighty confident there, princess,” Chaol said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Aelin unsheathed the blade at her hip, one of those wild smirks on her face that Rowan had grown to cherish. “Why don’t we see if I can back that confidence up?”

…

Aelin had been called cocky before. Many times, actually. Sometimes she was, but others… she wouldn’t call it cocky if her boasts were true.

After nearly a full year of training with Rowan, her skill was nearly unreachable. Chaol used to provide a good challenge when she had been younger but now, after facing an immortal warrior for days and days on end… fighting Chaol was nearly boring. He was so much slower that Rowan, even when Aelin was in her mortal form. She had grown used to the way the Fae prince fought, moving as fast and dangerously as storm winds. Her magics didn’t jump and dance as she traded blows with Chaol as they did with Rowan. Pitting herself against anyone who wasn’t her Fae prince now felt almost like child's play, not that she would ever tell Chaol that as it would most likely damage his pride beyond compare.

While she and Chaol sliced and slashed, Rowan worked with Dorian on his magic. The Fae prince had told her that he didn’t have any experience training those with raw magic, but he would do what he could to help her friend. For that, Aelin was thankful.

Dorian was lucky that he got to train with a more patient, less temperamental Rowan. She had gotten the brunt of his frustrations when she had been younger. Dorian’s training was like a walk through the gardens compared to what she went through.

Chaol, at least, was working up a sweat while they sparred. 

“You’ve certainly been practicing,” he huffed, bringing his steel crashing down upon her own. 

“Nearly every day,” Aelin returned, parrying aside a rather feeble attack.

She was only partially paying attention to her match with Chaol, instead keeping an eye on Rowan and Dorian off to the side. It was strange to see the two together, that males that seemed so different could both be her cherished friends. Rowan looked like he was born and bred for bloodshed, every inch of him hewn from steel and icy winds. He looked the part of the deadly immortal warrior. Dorian however was a child of the court. From his slim physique and those sparkling bedroom eyes, most people wouldn’t picture him as much of a threat. With a blade, perhaps not, but with the magic that hid and boiled beneath his skin… Dorian had the potential to make or break armies with half a thought, if he were given proper training. According to his letters, his burst of power normally came from moments of high emotion, and couldn’t always summon that caliber of magic.

Aelin’s mindlessness cost her a nick across the arm. The stinging of broken flesh brought her back to the task at hand as she hissed at the captain in displeasure. In retaliation, she came at him with a quick, dirty combination that Rowan had showed her that ended up with her heel in his gut and his ass in the dirt.

“Excellent work by my captain of the guard,” Dorian taunted while Aelin offered Chaol a hand up.

Chaol glowered. “You’re welcome to come and get your hands dirty,”

“Oh, no thank you. I have no desire to embarrass myself today,”

“Well, why don’t you show us some of your magic then?” Aelin suggested, brushing stray strands of hair from her sweaty face.

“I think I just said I don’t want to embarrass myself,”

Aelin rolled her eyes. “Dorian, I’ve known you for almost twelve years. I’ve seen you do plenty of embarrassing things,”

She perched herself beside Rowan, smiling faintly at him. It was… strange having others train with them. She had become so accustomed to having privacy when they were together that adding others made a strange dynamic. Of course, Aelin loved her friends and was plenty happy to spend time with them. It just made it… different when she interacted with Rowan. She was more aware of every word she said, every quirk of the lips or stray touch. It wasn’t as though they had anything to hide from Dorian and Chaol, but…

“Fine,” Dorian sighed dramatically. He strolled before one of the thick, ancient trees that filled the Oakwald, planting himself a healthy distance from the base of the trunk.

Aelin glanced at Rowan, raising a brow.  _ What is he doing? _

A jerk of the chin towards the mortal prince.  _ Just watch. _

She turned her attention back to Dorian as he raised a single hand. His sapphire eyes narrowed a fraction of an inch before a thunderous  _ crack  _ rang through the clearing as the once mighty tree was reduced to nothing but splinters.

There was a hand on her lower back, Rowan’s, ready to step in incase something went wrong… but nothing did. Aelin simply gawked at her friend, at what used to be a massive pine tree, at Chaol who seemed just as bewildered as her.

“Holy shit,” Aelin breathed, about as eloquent as she could be in the circumstances.

She knew that Dorian had the potential to be powerful, but she had never seen him do something like this! He normally used his powers on small things, like lighting a fire or cooling a drink, perhaps messing with his younger brother, but never  _ this.  _

Dorian turned, flashing perfect, white teeth. “Impressed?”

Aelin could only blink wordlessly. She slowly turned her face to Rowan.  _ There’s no way you taught him how to do that in a few hours. _

The Fae prince simply smirked.  _ Apparently, I’m a very good teacher. _

…

Their training eventually came to an end, all parties weary and ready to bathe and rest for a bit before dinner. Aelin parted with the males, more than happy to sit in her tub for a while and let her muscles unwind. She would see them all again sometime that night.

The dining room was packed that night with Aelin’s court and their guests, but she didn’t mind the crowd. Conversation and laughter flowed as easily as the wine did while she joked and laughed with her friends and family over a particularly delicious meal.

After desert had been consumed, Dorian convinced Aelin to come peruse the library with him for a bit before they retired for the night. She indulged him, knowing how much he enjoyed the Library of Orynth. When he visited, Aelin knew he often times spent hours lost between the stacks of ink and leather and parchment. 

Aelin ran her fingertips over the cracked spines of a row of books while Dorian plucked a few volumes out for himself. She knew she had plenty of books waiting to be read in her rooms, but she couldn’t help herself from looking at more.

“Are you sure there’s no man in your life, my friend?” Dorian asked as he studied an ancient tome.

Aelin rolled her eyes. “If this is another attempt to seduce me, Dorian, it won’t work,”

“Aelin, if I ever  _ really  _ tried to seduce you I would have you in my chambers with a few words,”

She scoffed and made a rude hand gesture that she could only make since there were no other prying eyes. Dorian barked out a laugh at the response.

“No, Dorian. I promise you there is no man in my life,”

“Well, maybe not a man but what about… a male?”

Aelin blinked once, slowly turning towards her friend and pressing her back against the shelf behind her. “What do you mean?”

Dorian shrugged nonchalantly. “I was just wondering if you perhaps had something going on with Prince Whitethorn,”

Aelin’s jaw dropped as she gaped at her friend. “Why the hell would you think that?!”

“Well, you two just seemed awfully comfortable around one another, happy. Besides, he’s a handsome bastard, I wouldn’t blame you if you took him as a lover,”

“We’re not-!” she began, before noting how loudly she was speaking and changing to a low hiss. “We’re not lovers! Rowan’s just my friend, he trains me. Nothing more,”

Dorian held his hands up in surrender. “I meant no offense. It was just… the way he would look at you… nevermind. I was simply thinking that if you two were together, you’d make an awfully handsome pair,”

Aelin scowled.

She couldn’t imagine why he would think such a thing. She and Rowan hadn’t acted anything more than friendly to one another all day. It wasn’t like with Fenrys, when he would blatantly flirt with her at any opportunity. In fact, they had kept a respectful distance from one another today while they trained. But Dorian had said the way he had  _ looked  _ at her… well, she had no idea what he was talking about. He looked at her the way he looked at anyone else. Well, perhaps with more or less irritation given the day but  _ still.  _

But maybe…

Aelin knew there was  _ something  _ there between them that was deeper than friendship, stronger than the  _ carranam  _ bond. There was clearly attraction on both ends, though she knew neither of them would ever act on it. But, she could also tell that there was still  _ more.  _ Aelin knew clearly how she felt about Rowan. She just wished he would tell her how he felt about her. She was tired of speculating, of mulling over little words or actions to try and make sense of it all.

Aelin randomly yanked a book from a shelf, peeling open the pages but not really reading it. She stared blankly at the dark ink while her hand crept up and clutched the pendant that hung from her neck.

She had less than a month left with Rowan, less than a month of sleeping at his side, of watching him grin, of tracing the lines of his tattoo with her eyes. She didn’t know how she was going to be able to say goodbye to the male she-

“I think this is enough to tide me over for now,” Dorian breathed, holding up a thick stack of books. “Ready to head back?”

Aelin nodded, sliding the book in her hands back to its spot.

Rowan was probably waiting for her, anyway.

…

A week and a half went by, the final bits of snow melting and the grounds beginning to thaw. Soon, the first shoots of spring would push their way through the soil, encasing the sprawling terrain in green once again. 

Rowan and Aelin trained as they always have, but Rowan was now forced to share her in the evenings to entertain her guests. It wasn’t the worst thing, he supposed. She always returned to his rooms at night flushed with happiness, ready to regale him with tales of her night. But, Rowan’s time in Terrasen was growing short. A little over a week left. Neither he nor the princess mentioned it, his parting, but they were both perfectly aware of the fact. Rowan already had passage booked on a ship to ferry him over the sea when the time came. 

But, Rowan now craved every moment he could manage to steal with Aelin. 

He didn’t know how he ended up in this position. There had been a time when he had viewed Aelin as nothing more than a pestering assignment, but then she had become his friend, his  _ carranam _ , the woman he-

No. It would do no good thinking like that now.

It was late. Rowan hadn’t seen Aelin since they finished training this afternoon. He knew she had gone to bathe, change, and spend time with her friends and her court. He wasn’t sure when she would be done, which gave him plenty of time by himself which his spent perusing the countless volumes in the library.

He had lost track of time reading over ancient tomes, hunched over at a little desk while he read by the fire’s glow. But, eventually his eyes grew weary, and he departed.

From a glance out the window, Rowan would assume it was well-past midnight. The halls were barren, the torches dwindling as the silver moon rose over the tops of the pine trees. 

Rowan would have assumed he was alone if he hadn’t heard the sound of at least three pairs of feet and an unfamiliar feminine voice echoing across the stone walls.

“It’s practically official now, thank the gods,” the woman said dramatically.

Rowan caught a glimpse of who was speaking. A middle-aged woman in voluminous skirts and fine jewelry, walking beside three more well-dressed ladies. The queen of Adarlan, Georgina, with her favored courtiers for today.

Rowan didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but he couldn’t help it when she was so close and speaking so loudly.

“I mean, it’s high time Dorian got married, and it’s a smart match,” the queen continued. “He and Aelin are already such good friends, it won’t be a difficult transition. She’s a lovely girl too, they’ll make such a charming pair, don’t you agree?”

The ladies by her side nodded vigorously.

But Rowan didn’t hear anything else as he slowed to a stop. 

If Georgina’s words rung true, Aelin would be wed to Dorian Havilliard. 

It wasn’t as if the princess getting married was a new notion to Rowan. He expected it, he supposed, as did Aelin. But  _ hearing  _ it… Rowan didn’t think it would sting so much. He should have known that the time of Adarlan’s trip to Terrasen was purposeful, that it overlapped when he would be finished training the princess and she would be free of Maeve’s bargain, free of him, free to marry another man.

No. Rowan knew he shouldn’t be upset at the thought, as if he had any claim on Aelin. He didn’t, and it would be foolish of him to try. It would give Maeve too much leverage, and it would interfere with her ability to marry. He couldn’t think of any prince who would want to take a bride who was tied to him in any manner. 

Rowan took a deep, steadying breath before continuing to his rooms for the night.

He should be happy for her. Aelin was good friends with Dorian and she truly did care for him, perhaps not in a romantic manner but that didn’t mean it couldn’t grow to be so. Besides, from the time he had spent with the raven-haired prince, Rowan could tell he was a good man. He would be kind to Aelin, he would treat her well. He already made her smile and laugh, he made her happy.

And for that, Rowan should be happy too.

Should be.

Rowan opened the doors to his room, finding that Aelin had already curled up and fallen asleep. A sharp pang went through his heart at the sight, at how peaceful and beautiful she looked bathed in the glow of the moonlight. 

He prepared himself for bed as quietly as he could, not wanting to disturb her rest. 

He took the spot beside her, propping his head up on his elbow and studying her. He wanted to memorize every detail, from her softly parted lips to the slope of her nose. She was stunning, she was the most amazing woman Rowan had ever met.

And soon, another man would get the pleasure of seeing her like this, and he wouldn’t get the chance again.

Rowan couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and brushing her hair from her face, resting his palm against her warm cheek far longer than he needed to.

Leaving her was going to be the most difficult thing he’d ever do.

…

Rowan was acting… strange. Aelin couldn't put a finger on what exactly was wrong but he was off. He barely spoke as they trained, wouldn't look at her and if he did, it was only for a heartbeat with an indiscernible look in his eye. He'd been like that for two days now and Aelin  _ hated  _ it. She wanted to spend their last remaining days with him, not this strange husk. He had barely even reacted when she told him that Orlon was hosting a ball in a few days to celebrate both her completion of training and Adarlan’s arrival in Orynth. She had expected him to protest going to such a grand affair but… nothing.

She racked her mind to try and figure out where this change in behavior stemmed from. Had she said something? Had someone else? Did something happen that he wasn’t telling her? Her traitorous mind thought of infinite possibilities, plaguing her thoughts for the past two days. 

She hadn’t really had a chance to speak to him privately. She was occupied in the evenings with her guests from Adarlan, and when she returned to Rowan’s rooms, he was never there and she would fall asleep before he came in. 

But not tonight. 

She wanted to know,  _ needed  _ to know, what was wrong. She hated the ignorance, she hated not being able to help because she wasn’t aware of what the problem was. Rowan was always there for her, through all of her issues. She wanted to do the same for him, though it was rare he ever spoke about his feelings. 

Aelin forced herself to stay awake. It was late, Rowan still wasn’t in his rooms. She wasn’t sure how long she spent wringing her hands or pacing back and forth on the plush carpet. It was torture.

She had eventually lowered herself on the edge of the bed, had taken to fiddling with the lacy trim of her nightgown to keep her hands occupied, when she heard the door open. Her heart skipped a beat as she looked up at Rowan, the Fae prince only blinking as she rose to her feet.

“It’s late, you should be asleep,” he said as a form of greeting, shutting the door behind him and moving right past her towards the desk.

Aelin tugged her robe tighter around her frame, standing a few feet behind him, watching his shoulders move as he unstrapped weapons from his body.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Aelin whispered. 

She waited a moment, to see if he would turn to her, but he didn’t.

“Rowan…” she rasped.

A grunt in response.

“Rowan, look at me. Please,”

He froze for a heartbeat, Aelin swallowing hard he slowly turned towards her. She studied his face, a face that she could normally so easily read, and suddenly found his expression as mysterious as the words in the Old Language written down his body. 

She inhaled sharply, taking a step closer.

“What’s wrong, Rowan?” 

A shake of the head. “Nothing’s wrong,”

“Bullshit,” Aelin bit out with enough ferocity that he actually looked her in the eye. She bit the inside at her lip to keep from crying as he continued to look at her blankly. Aelin continued, voice barely above a whisper, “You won’t look at me, you won’t talk to me. You’re right in front of me and I  _ miss you _ , Rowan. It’s- it’s like you’re already gone,”

Again, his eyes flickered to the floor, though his brows pushed together. 

Aelin dared another step closer. “Did- did something happen? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, gods no, Aelin,” Rowan sighed, eyes still trained on the floor.

“Then  _ what? _ ” she cried out in frustration. Her hands reached out, gently cradling Rowan’s face in her palms, angling his eyes towards her. Now, she could see the pain in them, the confliction, but she still didn’t know what had caused it, or how she could help.

“Talk to me. Please,”

His eyes held hers for one second longer before his hands shot out, grabbing her wrists and pulling her hands away.

“Don’t touch me like that,”

And just like that, Aelin’s world seemed to shatter.

She stopped hearing, stopped breathing, as his words settled in on her.

She snatched her hands to her chest, as if those words had physically hurt her. She was blinking rapidly as her head tried to catch up with her heart. Her mouth opened and closed uselessly as Rowan turned away from her, bracing his hands on the edge of the wooden desk. 

“I-I…” Aelin stuttered pathetically as she felt her entire body flush with shame. “I’m sorry,”

Rowan said nothing.

Aelin felt her eyes burn as she stepped towards the door, chest rising and falling unevenly as if she forgot how to breathe. A lump formed in her throat as she placed one hand on the door handle, the other resting against the frame. She didn’t trust herself too look back at him before speaking.

“I’m expected on a hunt tomorrow. I won’t be training,”

With that, she threw open the door and marched right in the hall. She could only dare to do so because of the hour, knowing they would be barren. She shut the door behind her with more strength than was needed, and, before she knew it, she was running down the halls. She wanted to be far enough away so Rowan didn’t hear that first pathetic sob that tore from her throat. 

Her vision blurred with tears as she ran, not knowing where she was going. She couldn’t go to her rooms, they felt far too close to Rowan. She couldn’t show up at Aedion or Lysandra’s rooms with tear-stained cheeks and puffy eyes without some sort of explanation that would be far too difficult for her to give now. 

She rounded a corner into a dark and cold hall that was hardly ever used. Aelin shoved herself into a corner, back sliding against the cold, stone wall. Her shoulders shook with silent cries, digging the heels of her palms into her eyes. Gods, how could she be so  _ stupid.  _

She had been tricking herself. Why would Rowan ever want her like that? He had been in love with Lyria, his beautiful, perfect mate, and he had lost her. Why would she ever think he would want to give himself fully to any other female? Aelin had been asking for too much, she was sure she had misread the signs and  _ gods. _

She felt like a fool. Worse, in fact.

Aelin didn’t know how she would ever be able to face him again, not after he drew that line in the sand. 

_ Idiot.  _ She was an idiot who had driven away her friend because of a stupid,  _ stupid  _ mistake.

Aelin didn’t know how long she sat there, purging herself of those bitter, awful emotions. She couldn’t believe herself. The future queen of Terrasen, mighty warrior and powerful magic user, shoved in the corner, crying because of the sharp ache in her chest. 

She didn’t know what time it was once the tears stopped falling and the sniffles came to a stop. All she knew was that she felt hollow and sad in a way she hadn’t felt in a long, long time. She stood on shaky legs, tugging her robe tighter around her body. She still couldn’t stomach the thought of going back to her rooms, not when she knew Rowan was right through the passages, but she couldn’t stay out in the halls all night. 

Aelin hoped she didn’t look as awful as she felt as she made her way down the halls, towards a place where she knew she would feel safe. Before she could think better of it, Aelin rapped her knuckles on an ornate, wooden door.

She waited a few heartbeats. If he didn’t answer, she would think of something else. He could be in a deep sleep.

But, she heard the soft scrape of a foot on the stone floor, the dark, oak door opening to reveal Dorian with messy hair and sleepy blue eyes.

“Can I stay here tonight?” she asked.

His handsome face softened in a smile, nodding and offering his hand. Although Aelin couldn’t find it within herself to offer up a true smile, she still hoped he could see the gratefulness in her expression as she took his hand and stepped into his rooms, shutting the door behind her.

She hoped that a deep, dreamless sleep would find her.

…

Rowan was a godsdamn fool.

That was all he could think as he sat alone in his room, with sheets that still smelled of Aelin, with the feeling of her hands still a phantom presence on his face.

He was a  _ fool. _

He had tried to distance himself from the princess the last few days, through no fault of her own. Just knowing that an engagement to Dorian was likely in the near future, he thought it would be wise to take a step back. The Havilliard prince was intelligent and perceptive. Rowan had seen that knowing glimmer in his sapphire eyes that day he and the captain had come to train. Everytime Rowan would look away from watching Aelin, Dorian smiled as if he were in on a secret. He was a smart boy.

Which was why Rowan knew he had to be careful with how he interacted with Aelin. Would Dorian want to risk marrying a woman who he thought Rowan laid a claim on? Would he risk challenging the most powerful pure-blood Fae male in the world for an advantageous marriage? Rowan didn’t want to risk ruining an intelligent match because he couldn’t keep himself in check.

But he had played it wrong.

He had been hurting Aelin these past few days without even knowing. He should have thought about how distancing himself without explanation would seem to her. She thought she had done something wrong, had wanted to help him.

And then he pushed her away.

The pain and confusion he had seen on her face when he pulled her hands away would haunt him forever. He never wanted to make her feel like that, but he had.

He didn’t know what had possessed him. Standing there, close enough with her to share breath, her hands holding him, eyes beseeching his… the rush of emotion that flooded Rowan in those fateful moments frightened him. That he cared for her, that he would want another woman in the same capacity that he had wanted Lyria. He felt like a traitor.

And he had snapped at Aelin. 

He couldn’t imagine what she was thinking right now, how she must be feeling. He had treated her so wrong, so opposite of how he wanted to. 

He had to find her. To apologize, to explain his shitty behavior and hope she could forgive him for such an insult. 

He stormed from his room, finding Aelin’s scent in a moment. He followed that trail, trying to think of the proper words to explain his behavior, to try and find the words that might fix what he had done. 

She was close, he knew it. He glanced down the hall and instantly froze. Aelin was just at the other end of the hall, reaching out and taking Dorian Havilliard’s hand and stepping into his chambers, the heavy oak door shutting behind them. The sound of that door clicking shut echoed through every part of Rowan’s brain. She hadn’t even seen him.

Rowan lingered there for a few more moments, staring at that closed door. 

He had messed up, and had driven her into another man’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> new chapter! hope you all were looking for some angst because that's what yall got!  
> Thank you for your support on the story! I love love love writing it and your support means the world.  
> let me know what you all think of the chapter (and, I know, the slow burn killed me too!!)


	32. Chapter 32

Aelin really hadn’t been expected on the hunt the next morning. She had been invited yes, but had turned it down initially to spend her day training with Rowan. They had seemed excited when she told them that there had been a change in plans.

So, now she was seated on a horse, bow and quiver of arrows slung over her shoulders. They were for show, mostly. She didn’t ever participate in hunts, just going along for the politics. 

It felt strange to be meandering so slowly through the woods she often flew through. It was nearly painfully boring to trot along, not feeling the wind whipping her braid as she twisted between gnarled trees. But, she supposed, it could be worse.

Dorian and Chaol were both there, as was Dorian’s father and awful younger brother who she didn’t trust with the bow in his hands. Aedion and Ren were both there as well, joking back and forth instead of looking for any game.

Not that she was, either. Aelin couldn’t make herself focus on the activity no matter how hard she tried. The scene from the night before played over and over in her head, every word said, every step she took to see if there was something different she could have done that would have made a difference. Perhaps she shouldn’t have pried, perhaps she shouldn’t have touched him.

But he had never had a problem with that before. He hadn’t minded when she had embraced him or held him before, had done the same to her plenty of times. He had never moved away, never seemed uncomfortable. She didn’t understand him, the things he said or did in the past, couldn’t make sense of it with what he had declared last night.

_ Don’t touch me like that,  _ he had said. It was ringing through Aelin’s head.  _ Don’t touch me like that don’t touch me like that don’t touch me like that don’t touch me- _

“You seem distracted,” Dorian said, pulling his mare up beside her own.

Aelin blinked quickly before she shook her head and tried to work a convincing smile to her face. “No, I’m fine,”

Dorian looked at her unconvincingly, but didn’t push it. She was thankful for that, just like the night before. When she had showed up at his door in the middle of the night and asked to stay with him, he had said yes without question. They did nothing but sleep, and she was thankful for his presence, but when she reached across the bed through the night, she was still looking for Rowan. 

She didn’t know whether she wanted to ask for his forgiveness or scream at him. Maybe a mix of both.

Aelin wished she could talk to someone about this, but that would involve sharing things she perhaps wasn’t ready to admit aloud. She normally would talk to Rowan about whatever she was feeling conflicted about but, for obvious reasons, that wouldn’t work now.

She didn’t know how she made it through the rest of the uneventful hunt without falling off her horse or crashing into a tree. She really couldn’t focus on anything around her, could barely joke with her friends and family. Aelin only taunted Aedion once the whole time, which was probably a record for time spent without being mean to him.

She was thankful, at least, when they headed back towards the fortress.

Aelin was ready to bathe and change. Although she loved riding, she didn’t love the smell of horse that lingered on her garments after. 

Dorian walked with her back to her rooms, being his ever so charming self, grinning at courtiers and servants alike. Aelin knew he would be a good king when he ascended to the throne. His people loved him, and even those in Orynth always were excited to see him as well. 

“So,” Dorian asked as they leisurely strolled down the halls. “Where is Prince Whitethorn today?”

Aelin tried to keep a sour look from covering her face, pursing her lips slightly as she picked horse hair from her tunic. “I don’t know,”

Dorian raised a dark brow. “Really?”

“What’s so surprising about that? Why should I know all of his actions?”

“Well, I just figured you two were friends,” Dorian explained. “Perhaps he would have said something to you,”

Aelin clenched her jaw and said nothing. What was there to say? That she had made a mistake and her most cherished friend had snapped at her and turned her away? That his behavior hurt far more than it should for reasons Aelin couldn’t admit aloud? There were too many implications that would come with explaining herself fully.

“Aelin…” Dorian sighed, grabbing her hand and tugging her to a stop. There was concern etched on his face as he looked at her. “I can see there’s something wrong, and though you’re under no obligation to tell me, just know I’m here if you want to,”

Of course he would know. Dorian was always too perceptive for his own good. But, she appreciated his offer. Aelin grinned at her friend, giving his hand a firm and appreciative squeeze.

“Thank you, Dorian,”

The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled, reaching out and lightly brushing his knuckles across the point of her chin. She was immensely thankful for him, for his steady kindness and support that had lifted some of the oppressive weight from her shoulders. She felt lighter, she felt better than she had all day.

But that didn’t last long.

“Aelin,”

Just like that, just the sound of her name in a painfully familiar voice, was enough to send her heart sinking to the pit of her stomach. Her smile faded as she slowly turned and found Rowan standing expectantly behind her, but just like the night before, he wasn’t looking her in the eye. Instead, his steely gaze was focused in on Dorian’s hand holding hers, how close the young prince was standing to her. Aelin knew she didn’t imagine the slight flaring of his nostrils, the clench of his jaw. The look in his eyes, the possessiveness and anger… Aelin nearly laughed at the irony of it all. He was jealous.

Rowan finally tore his gaze from Dorian and pinned it on her. “Can I talk to you?”

Aelin had wondered how she would feel when she inevitably laid eyes on Rowan Whitethorn again. She wondered if she would have been sad or embarrassed, would have immediately asked for forgiveness again… but seeing him now, seeing his reaction to Dorian, Aelin felt nothing but burning, bitter anger.

“I’m talking with Dorian right now,” Aelin bit out. 

How dare he stroll right up to her so casually, like nothing had happened the night before. How dare he have the audacity to glower at Dorian for holding her hand when he had made it glaringly clear that he didn’t want her hands anywhere near him. He had the nerve to look nearly offended at the way she snapped out her response.

Gods, she was pissed. She was hurt and pissed and-

“I actually think I’m going to go and bathe,” Dorian chimed in. If the way Rowan had been glowering unnerved him, he didn’t show. Aelin’s eyes widened helplessly as her friend dropped her hand and took a few paces back, raising a knowing brow. “Don’t let me stop you. I’ll see you later tonight, Aelin,”

The princess gawked at his retreating form. Dorian knew damn well by her tone that she was in no mood to talk to Rowan and he still… she was going to make his life miserable later.

Rowan cleared his throat, calling her attention back to him. “Perhaps we could go somewhere a bit more… private?”

A beat of hesitation, before snapping, “Fine,”

They kept a healthy distance away from one another as they made their way down the halls. Aelin led the Fae prince to one of the smaller board rooms used for meetings and political discussions. It was empty and dark and quiet, far enough away from the busiest parts of the fortress that they wouldn’t be overheard. With half a thought, Aelin had a fire roaring in the fireplace and on the torches that lined the walls as Rowan shut the heavy door behind him. She stalked over to the long, sturdy table that split the room in half, leaning her weight on the edge, arms crossed over her chest as she looked to Rowan. He lingered near the door, green eyes flashing in the firelight. 

Nothing was said for a few moments as they sized one another up. Aelin had just about had enough of the silence, ready to push off the table and leave, when he finally spoke.

“I’m sorry,” he began quietly. “About last night,”

Aelin shrugged. “It’s fine.”

A half-hearted response and she could tell Rowan knew it. He dared another step closer. 

“I didn’t mean to snap at you, Aelin,”

“It’s _fine_ ,” she repeated, looking down at her dirty boots. “We both did things wrong. Let’s just forget it,”

“No, Aelin. You didn’t do anything wrong,”

Her eyes snapped up to his, annoyance and anger brewing in her blood as she straightened. She knew Rowan could read every single emotion that passed through her.

“I don’t know what you want from me, Rowan,” she finally spat, that dam of emotions she had been trying to keep at bay finally breaking and flooding through her. The fires in the room seemed to pulse as her anger flashed through her, hot and scalding. She took a few, dangerously slow steps towards him, not daring to break his gaze. “I thought I knew what you thought of me, how you felt about me, what you wanted, but then you started acting completely differently without explanation. You’re hot and then you’re cold with me, smiling and laughing and being there and then turning your back the next day. It's killing me. I don’t  _ rutting  _ know what you want from me!”

Rowan’s gaze was intense as her looked at her, taking in her clenched teeth and eyes threatening to well over with tears. He took another step closer. She could reach out and brush his shoulder with her fingertips now if she wanted.

“Yes you do, Aelin,”

His voice was surprisingly soft and sad and  _ vulnerable  _ in a way Aelin had never heard before. His silver head cocked to the side as he came closer, looking at her in a way he never had before. Pleading and sorrowful.

“Fireheart…” he breathed, moving until he was right before her, his chest nearly flush against her own. His hand reached out slowly, giving her the time to shy away if she wanted, but she couldn’t force herself to as he took her hand into his calloused one. “You know how I feel about you, I know you do, even if I have a hard time showing it properly,”

Aelin was hardly breathing as he brushed away some of her hair that had escaped her braid, tenderly tucking it behind her ear, still holding her gaze with his own.

“There are so many things I wish I could do, so many things I wish I could say,” he continued quietly, as if the winds would carry his confessions to prying ears. “But I can’t, not in the way you deserve. Aelin… I look at you, and I feel a way I’ve never felt before and it frightens me,” He took the hand holding hers, inching it upwards until he rested her palm on his tattooed cheek.

Aelin released a breath she hadn’t even known she was holding as his large palm covered the back of her hand, pressing it more firmly against the planes of his face. 

“Last night,” Rowan whispered, warm breath puffing over her face. “I looked at you, and the intensity of what I felt frightened me. I panicked and I snapped at you, but you did  _ nothing,  _ absolutely  _ nothing,  _ to deserve it. You did nothing wrong, Aelin, but I did. And, for that, I’m so,  _ so  _ sorry,”

Her chest was rising and falling shallowly as his words sunk in. Never in a million years would she have expected words such as these to fall from Rowan Whitethorn’s mouth. But here she was, standing before him while he begged for her forgiveness. Her friend, her  _ carranam _ … and to know that he felt for her the same way she felt for him, held back by the same invisible ties… all Aelin could do was smile, placing her free hand on the back on his neck, feeling the fine hairs that grew there.

“There’s nothing to forgive,” she finally rasped out.

She could see the relief wash over his features, mouth softening into a beautiful smile. He turned his head slightly, kissing the palm that had been pressed against his cheek, right on the thin, white scar that had formed when they had discovered their  _ carranam  _ bond.

At the brush of his lips, Aelin could have sworn her heart almost burst from her chest.

She wasted no time launching forward and throwing her arms around his neck, feeling his strong arms embrace her tightly. She could feel his face buried into the crook of her neck as he lifted her against him, her toes skimming the ground. Aelin could have cried from how relieved she felt, but she kept those unruly tears in check. She let herself get lost in his pine and snow scent, in his steady warmth and comforting strength. 

She leaned back far enough to look at his handsome face as Rowan cradled her jaw. He pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead, then both her eyelids, finishing with one on the tip of her nose, so  _ damned close  _ to where she really wanted them, but she couldn’t find it within herself to be disappointed.

She was just happy to have her friend back.

…

Rowan felt as though the weight of a mountain had been lifted from his shoulders. 

All he had been able to think about through the night and most of that day was the look on Aelin’s face when he had pulled her hands away. The hurt and confusion that painted her lovely face had been enough to cause a dull throb in his own chest, especially knowing that he had been the cause of it.  ****  
** **

He had wanted to get a chance to speak with her all day, but she had preoccupied herself with her guests, thoroughly shutting him out, which was what he supposed he deserved. When he finally got the chance to speak to her… he hadn’t been expecting her anger. She had been pissed at him many times in the past but she had never been furious as she had been today. 

But he let her be angry, let her rage and rant, let her say how she felt.

And he hated how he was making her feel. 

Rowan wanted to be good to her, and he could only do that as a friend, really. Anything more would make things complicated. But, he wanted her. He knew that down to his very bones. He wanted Aelin Galathynius, but he couldn’t have her.

It would be smart of him to bury those feelings deep. He had just over a week left before he had to depart. He would savor the moments with her, every single second, even at that damned ball Orlon was throwing in a few more days that he couldn’t avoid even if he wanted to. It was thrown partly in his honor. He wouldn’t disrespect the king like that.

“Am I going to have to take you shopping again?” Aelin asked from behind the changing curtain.

“Gods, no,” Rowan said quickly from his perch on the edge of the bed. It was late, the moon crept up the clear, starry sky as the princess kept his rooms lit with her fires. He had already prepared himself for the night, shirt off and in a pair of soft trousers. “I’ll just borrow one of your cousin’s again,”

Aelin scoffed from behind the curtain. “Both you and Aedion are terrible with shopping. It’s amazing how either of you stay clothed at all,”

Rowan laughed softly and shook his head at her dramatics. He would take her any way he could, just immensely happy to have her back at his side, in his bed, once again.

He heard the soft scrape of her foot against stone as she rounded the corner, looking up once he saw her shadow cast against the floor.

But every coherent thought left his head when he saw her.

Rowan thought he had already had the pleasure of seeing Aelin’s entire collection of flimsy little nightgowns, but he stood corrected. He hadn’t seen  _ this  _ particular piece before.

His eyes roamed to Aelin’s face, at the feline smirk that graced her lips as she noticed what her clothing choice did to him. Her eyes seemed to glow in the dim light, hair tousled and tumbling down her back. Then, his eyes began to drift south. 

As the rest of her nightgowns, it was little more than a scrap of silk, leaving little to the imagination. The gold fabric shimmered in the firelight as she took slow, deliberate steps towards him. The gown could have been sewn right onto her body for how it clung to her, showing every dip and curve and hollow. The straps were thin, the neckline dipping low and showing a tantalizing glimpse of the swells of her breasts.

And the way she looked in the fire’s glow… she was like a living flame.

Rowan swallowed hard, trying to keep his self-control in check as she slowly prowled towards him. 

“Where’d you get that?” he asked, eyes finally leaving her lithe form and meeting hers.

“ _ This _ was Lysandra’s birthday gift to me,” Aelin said, stopping right before him and planting herself in the space between his knees. 

Rowan’s fingers twitched, itching to reach out and touch her, to pull her close. “This your first time wearing it?” 

A nod, running her fingers down her sides and smoothing it against her thighs. “I was saving it,”

“For what?” Rowan dared to ask.

A sultry smile curved on her lips. “Someone who would appreciate it,”

With that, Aelin moved slowly with the deadly grace of a big cat, bracing her hands on his bare shoulders and straddling his hips. On instinct, his hands shot out and clamped down on her waist, his blood burned with desire. She had never been this close, her body flush against his, tip of her nose brushing against his own. He could hear the beat of her heart, every too-shallow breath she sucked down, could scent the desire that coursed through her veins as he was sure she could detect in his as well. It took every ounce of control he possessed to not immediately tangle his fingers in her hair, pull her mouth down onto his, touch her anywhere,  _ everywhere- _

Her hands pushed firmly against his chest, a silent request. He slowly lowered himself, taking the princess with him until her body hovered above his, running curious and exploratory hands over his chest, leaving a fire in their wake that had nothing to do with the magic she possessed. 

Rowan’s breathing was ragged as she looked at him, golden hair making a curtain around their faces. Her hips were pressed against his and there was no way she didn’t feel the evidence of his desire.

“Is that you?” she whispered against the shell of his ear.

“What?” Gods, his mind was useless right now. Every bit of him was consumed by  _ her. _

“Are you someone who appreciates my nightgown?”

Rowan’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, only trusting himself to nod, but that didn’t seem to be what she was looking for. Aelin leaned back, taking away her delicious heat, still straddling his hips. Her lips pouted slightly as she tilted her head to the side, playfully disappointed. ****  
** **

“Well, that’s not exactly the enthusiasm I had hoped for,” she said before jabbing her thumb in the direction of the door. “Dorian’s right down the hall, I’m sure he would appreciate-”

She was cut off by a surprised gasp as Rowan flipped her swiftly with a snarl, her back now pressed against the thick blankets, wrists pinned above her head, Rowan situated between her legs. The surprise on her face faded, only to be replaced with a midnight smirk as she saw what her little comment had done to him. Cruel, wicked, temptatious thing. Only Aelin would see his canines bared in a growl and grin, would proceed to arch her back and press herself against him more.

Rowan barked out a curse at the feeling of her soft body pressed against his, from her hips to her breasts. “Aelin…” he whispered, voice nearly guttural.

He watched as she took her bottom lip between her teeth, as she tilted her head back and exposed the long, graceful, curve of her throat.

“Rowan…” she pleaded in a sound that was little more than a gasp.

And the sound of his name tumbling from her lips was his undoing. 

He unleashed a small groan as he dropped her wrists, one hand cupping her jaw and the other trailing down her thigh as his lips descended upon her throat. He heard her breath hitch at the first whisper of his lips against the sensitive skin, her hands shooting out around his neck or buried in his hair. He started out trailing feather soft, tentative kisses down her neck, savoring her scent, watching as the skin broke out into gooseflesh. She released a shuddering breath as he paused at the junction between her neck and her shoulder.

Aelin’s body jerked beneath him as his tongue darted out and he tasted her skin, leaving open-mouthed kisses along her throat, taking his time nipping and sucking at the spots that had her whimpering. He angled her head to the side, allowing him better access to her throat while his other hand cupped her knee and hiked her thigh up further, grinding his hips against hers in a way that had her moaning.

Gods, he was drunk on her. The subtle taste of her skin, her scent, the feeling of her lifeblood pumping just under his lips. He savored every delightful little sound he could wring from her mouth, every roll of her hips, every whisper of his name. He had her writhing and gasping beneath him and his lips had never even left her throat.

His fingers dug into her strong thigh, feeling the silk of the nightgown slide up her smooth skin. Rowan fiddled the hem of the gown. It would be so easy to tear off, the silk would yield to his hands easier than paper. It would be so damned easy to get to bare skin, to run his hands over every inch of her body, to learn it the way he wanted to.

It would be so rutting easy.

But he couldn’t.

With a small groan, Rowan unlatched his lips from her neck, eyes screwed shut as he breathed deeply, trying to master himself as he pressed his forehead against Aelin’s. Her breaths were coming out in quick, short gasps, fingers that dug into his hair and shoulders loosening slowly. Once he finally deigned to open his eyes, he found Aelin looking at him with her own hazy with lust. He could see the flush of her cheeks, her bottom lip slightly swollen from how she bit it to keep herself from being too loud. 

Her short breaths ghosted over his face. Her lips were parted and inviting. He could duck his head down, kiss her deeply, swallow her moans as he explored her body.

But he didn’t do any of that.

Rowan sighed, skimming the pad of his thumb over her cheekbone. “We shouldn’t do this, Aelin,”

There was understanding on her face. Sadness, disappointment, but mostly understanding as she gave a tiny nod. “I know,”

And although they said that, neither of them was quick to move, to lose the heat of the other, to break apart the too-quick dream, because that’s all this was. A dream. Perhaps if they were someone else, anyone else, Rowan would have torn away that flimsy little dress and made love to her through the night.

But it couldn’t be.

“Aelin…” Rowan whispered reverently, hating the sorrow in her stunning eyes but knowing it was necessary. “What do you want me to do?”

“Just…” she breathed, brushing a clump of hair from his face with a touch far softer, far kinder, than Rowan had received in centuries. “Just hold me. Please,”

“Of course,”

Rowan carefully shifted his weight off of her, laying down on his side before pulling Aelin against his chest. She curled in that hollow, into that warmth he provided, as his arms wrapped around her frame. He took one of her hands, slipping his fingers between her own. Aelin pressed a kiss against his knuckles before tucking their intertwined hands close to her chest. He felt her release a deep breath and relax against him as he attempted to do the same.

Rowan kissed her bare shoulder once. “Goodnight, Fireheart,”

Her voice was small when she responded, “Goodnight, Rowan,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me just say.... from the bottom of my heart.... my bad for making yall wait so long when I ended the last chapter on an angsty cliff hanger. I hope this makes up for it.  
> Anyway, last chapter I got the highest comment count i've ever gotten on a chapter, so thank you guys!  
> Also, we reached 11k hits so thank you for that!   
> I hope you guys enjoy the chapter. Let me know what you think!!!


	33. Chapter 33

The next day, Aelin received a letter from Manon Blackbeak. Scrawled in hasty lettering was news that made her beam. Their civil war had ended, Manon and her army triumphing. Soon, they would start to rebuild their kingdom.

It was delightful news to hear. Aelin had read the letter aloud to Rowan, the Fae prince being the first one she told, before embracing him tightly. It had been strange to hold him in such a friendly manner after what had transpired the night before. Aelin’s face would heat up when her mind would wander to the feeling of his mouth against her neck, his weight pressed against her front. If she thought too long about it, she would begin imagining what could have happened if they hadn’t stopped themselves. She tried to keep those thoughts at bay. They were far too distracting. 

Aelin invited Manon and her coven to the ball, to celebrate their victory and introduce the new queen to courtiers and lords, to make connections that would hopefully make the rebuilding of her kingdom easier. Trade partners, merchants, scholars… they would all fill the great hall within two days. 

Aelin half expected the white-haired witch to say no, not getting the impression that she was one for finery and pretty politics, but she had said yes. Manon would be traveling with her second and third in command to Orynth by the next day. The rest of her coven would remain behind and lead while she was away.

The halls were buzzing with activity as Orynth prepared itself for the celebration. Aelin was glad to be away from the craziness of it all, instead enjoying the quiet woods while she and Rowan trained throughout the afternoon. She would miss this routine they had created, would miss the mornings running through the misty air, training until she was exhausted and falling asleep beside Rowan. Once he left, she would be expected in the castle more often than not for meetings and proposals. It would be a stark change.

That night, Aelin slipped into one of Rowan’s shirts before crawling into bed. Without her even having to ask, he tugged her against his chest once more, cradling her against him through the night. They would allow themselves this small pleasure. Though they couldn’t be together the way they desired, they would do what they could. Besides, Aelin had never slept better than when she was wrapped in his massive arms. 

She would allow herself to be selfish for a few more nights.

Aelin swore getting out of bed grew harder and harder with each passing day, as the hours ticked by and the time for Rowan’s departure crept ever closer. She knew he felt the same, though he hadn’t said it aloud. Aelin knew his schedule by now, could tell that he was lingering in bed for longer every day. 

She could feel his warm breath puffing on the back of her neck as the sun rose, buttery light filtering through the curtains. If it were up to her, Aelin would remained rooted where she was. But, she had responsibilities she needed to tend to, guests that needed to be greeted. Aelin turned in his arms, tucking her head beneath his chin. Her arms wrapped around his torso, fingers trailing down his broad shoulders, tracing the shapes of his scars, the dip of his spine, trying her best to memorize it all.

She supposed five extra minutes wouldn’t hurt.

…

Manon arrived in the late afternoon.

She was as fearsome and beautiful as Aelin remembered, lithe body wrapped in skin-tight flying leathers, her red cloak snapping in the wind behind her. Her gold eyes were bright and sharp, still filled with the tension that came with warfare, but there was something about the way she stood. Aelin could see that Manon now held herself with a sort of pride and power, shoulders back and chin tilted up. Lethal, regal, untouchable, but unlike any other queen Aelin had ever encountered.

She could have nearly laughed at the way Georgina eyed the witch as everyone was introduced. And Holland… if Aelin scared the boy, Manon petrified him. That sentiment didn’t stretch to his older brother, it would seem. Aelin recognized the gleam in Dorian’s bright eyes, could nearly read every thought that flew through his head as he took in Manon Blackbeak. Perhaps she would tease him about it later.

Manon seemed slightly stiff as she introduced herself to Adarlan’s royal family, probably unused to how to navigate such affairs. But, Aelin knew the witch was intelligent. She would be dominating verbal sparring matches in no time at all.

Aelin smiled her greeting, not afraid to let a bit of wickedness flash alongside her canines. Manon returned with a similar grin of their own, a form of recognition almost. They weren’t genteel court ladies. They weren’t afraid to bite.

But then, Manon’s nostrils flared as she scented the air, scented  _ her,  _ before those gold eyes flickered over Aelin’s shoulder where Rowan stood stoically. The witch’s brows knitted together, as if she were piecing together some puzzle. But, her features quickly rearranged themselves when Orlon began speaking. Pretty, diplomatic words welcoming new friends to Orynth.

Aelin parted with the large group along the three witches, leading them through the familiar halls towards the direction of their suites for their time in Orynth.

“I’m very happy to see that you have come out of you battles unscathed, my friends,” Aelin grinned, strolling alongside the females, trying to ignore how people gawked at the unfamiliar guests.

“Thanks to your support,” Manon said with a respectful bob of her head.

“Terrasen will be here to help as you rebuild as well,” Aelin reminded her. “And perhaps you can  meet some others tonight that will be able to lend a hand as well,”

“That Havilliard prince…” the golden-haired witch, Asterin, Aelin believed, began. “ _ He’s  _ the one with the raw magic?”

“He doesn’t look like much,” added the third, Sorrel.

“Looks can be deceiving,” Aelin laughed. “With a blade, Dorian’s is just about useless, but his magic is powerful,”

“A good ally to have,” Sorrel murmured, rubbing her chin pensively. 

Manon simply pursed her lips. “Yes, I suppose so,”

Aelin could have swore she saw a flush of blue blood bloom under the pale skin of her cheeks. Interesting… perhaps Dorian would find his silent interests returned. 

They came upon the suite of interconnected rooms the witches would be utilizing during their time in the fortress. Aelin was prepared to bid them farewell, give them time to rest and ready themselves for the ball tonight. Asterin and Sorrel wasted no time dipping into their respective bathing rooms, but Manon lingered in the threshold.

“I… have another favor to ask,” she whispered, almost guiltily. 

“Of course. Anything. What do you need?”

Manon sighed heavily, gold eyes flickering up, as if beseeching strength from a benevolent god before speaking. “I don’t have anything appropriate to wear tonight,”

_ Ah.  _ Aelin could see why she seemed so worried. It would be her first time being in the public eye as the rightful queen of the Witch Kingdom. First impressions were important, and first impressions of untried monarchs were even more imperative. She would have to dress carefully, and though the leathers she wore were of fine make and were intimidating enough, they weren’t really up to the dress code for the event later that night.

But, luckily for her, Aelin was an expert in dresses.

“Allow me to assist you tonight, your majesty,”

…

Aelin enlisted the help of Lysandra to help the queen prepare. Manon looked woefully out of her element as the princess and the shifter searched through piles of silk and velvets, rummaging through jewels and accessories, to help the witch create an ensemble that would strike a powerful message through the kingdoms of the continent. 

Elide came as well, more content to speak to Manon about the logistics of rebuilding her kingdom than sort through hundreds of dresses. Aelin could tell Manon was fond of the small girl. Perhaps she sensed the diluted witch blood that pumped through her veins, or perhaps she just enjoyed her quiet humor and striking intelligence.

Aelin and Lysandra debated cuts and color schemes while the queen hovered and watched. Perhaps Aelin would help her build her wardrobe in the future. Gods knew she would need it as queen. Dinners and meetings and balls all required a certain standard of finery, especially for royalty. 

“She needs a crown,” Aelin murmured, shifting through some of her own. She had circlets and tiaras, nothing really appropriate for a queen such as Manon.

“Actually…” the witch said, one of the few words she spoke while Aelin and Lysandra did their work. Manon reached into her satchel and produced what appeared to be a pile of cloth, until she folded it back and exposed shining, white gems twisted with bright silver. It seemed to radiate purity and light, unlike anything Aelin had ever seen. “This was Rhiannon’s crown. My great-grandmother managed to salvage it and protect it over all these years,”

“Marvelous,” Lysandra breathed, eyes wide and glued on the glimmering gems.

Aelin was inclined to agree. It certainly had more flair than any of her crowns. 

“Well,” the princess grinned. “I think that will do just nicely,”

She and Lysandra then sat Manon down and loosened her brutally tight braid, brushing and combing through her silky, moon-white locks before placing the crown of stars atop her fair head.

“Beautifully terrifying,” Lysandra nodded.

Manon flashed a wicked smile. “Just what I was hoping for,”

…

The Great Hall was fuller than Rowan ever remembered seeing it. Dignitaries of Terrasen and Adarlan filled the space decked out in opulent finery. Wine was sipped, politics were discussed, business was conducted all over the din of soft music. 

The royal family of Adarlan was already present, smiling and meeting lords and ladies and politicians. The crown prince was politely talking to a group of blushing young women while his younger brother was eating enough little cakes to rival Aelin’s sweet tooth.

Aelin herself had yet to arrive. He assumed she was finishing getting ready with Lysandra, Elide, and the witch queen. Manon’s second and third in command were already among the throes of people, countless guests shooting them cautious but curious looks, probably never seeing a witch up close before. 

Rowan stood with Aedion and Ren. The two men had become good companions of his over Rowan’s stay in Terrasen. They were different than the males in his cadre, quicker to laugh and tease. Rowan’s companions in Doranelle were ancient warriors, hardened by war and bloodshed over the years and he never really noticed how much it showed until now. He would miss Terrasen’s blooming court.

And Aelin…

He had thought relentlessly about that night he had let his control slip just a bit, about the princess in that damned golden nightgown and the feeling of her hot skin under his lips. His mind would wander, think about how the rest of the night might have gone if they were anyone else. He knew he shouldn’t be thinking such things, but he couldn’t help it.

“Finally!” Aedion said, Ashryver eyes pointed towards the grand double doors. “Took them long enough,”

Rowan followed his gaze, watching as the sea of people began to dip into bows or curtsies as a small group of females breezed in.

Lysandra and Elide instantly slipped into the parting crowd as two women stepped further in.

Rowan could immediately tell that Aelin had a strong hand in dressing Manon Blackbeak tonight. The queen wore a gown that looked as though it had been carved from iron, fitting perfectly to her lithe form. She wore an asymmetrical red cape that fastened with a dramatic gold chain over her shoulders. Manon was decked in the colors of both her people, a beautiful crown on her white head. No one wouldn’t know who she was, especially with the flair that Aelin had created with the clothing choice.

And Aelin looked mighty regal herself. She wore a beautiful deep green gown made of the finest velvet. The bodice fit snugly to her torso, the neckline plunging in a sharp angle almost down to her navel. A matching cape was attached to her shoulders by two silver brooches, trailing after her in a dramatic effect. Her golden hair had been twisted up artfully around a tiara fashioned into silver stag horns. She looked ethereal and powerful and just so damned  _ beautiful  _ that when her eyes found his and she smiled, Rowan could have sworn his heart skipped a beat.

He knew it would take a good while before he would get a chance to speak with her. Aelin had her duties to attend to, smiling at courtiers and charming merchants. But, it wouldn’t last all night. Rowan was patient. He could wait.

…

Aelin didn’t expect this ball to be such hard work. Of course, she had expected the normal exchanging of pleasantries and politics, but she hadn’t factored in Manon’s presence. The new queen had never experienced anything like this before. Aelin was sure Manon had seen her share of violence and bloodshed, but she was used to fights being clear and outright, rather than the slimy, sneaky way politics were conducted at court. 

Aelin stood by her side, helping to introduce her to people she thought would be beneficial for her kingdom. She could tell that the mortals around her were perhaps unnerved or even frightened by the witch, and Manon’s stony exterior did little to help with that. It was just the way she was. Aelin knew Manon didn’t have any murderous intentions that weren’t the same as hers during events like these. Sure, Aelin had them, but never seriously! Some of the conversations just were so damned boring and went on too long. 

Eventually, Elide took Aelin’s place so the princess could get a break. By break, she meant grabbing a glass of wine before being immediately dragged into another conversation. 

Aelin would find her gaze drifting when she grew tired of a discussion, looking for a familiar head of silver hair. She would catch glimpses of Rowan before he was swallowed up by the massive crowd. Aelin tried not to think about how handsome he looked tonight in a fine, black tunic that was perhaps just a bit tighter across the chest, not the Aelin was complaining. What did bother her, however, were the lingering glancing other women sent his way.

 It would be a miracle if she even managed to get a sentence in with him tonight with how busy she’d been. 

Gods, she selfishly wanted to spend every damned second with him. 

She had been emboldened by his declaration a few nights ago, had been reckless and desperate enough to show him how she felt. Aelin had relished the feeling of his body pressed against hers, his lips and teeth against the sensitive skin of her throat. It had been a painfully brief taste of how things could be between them if their situations were different.

Aelin let out a deep breath, taking a large swing of her wine when she was able to find a moment's reprieve. Manon seemed to have similar ideas and slid up beside her, swirling the contents of her glass.

“Your lover has hardly been able to look away from you tonight,” the witch drawled.

Aelin choked on her wine. “I’m sorry? My lover?”

“The Fae warrior. His scent is all over you,” Manon said simply. “Forgive me if it’s meant to be a secret,”

“There’s nothing to be kept secret because he isn’t my lover,” said Aelin, fighting back the blood that threatened to rush to her cheeks as her mind drifted to Rowan’s hips pressed against hers.

Manon raised a disbelieving brow. “Am I meant to believe that he is simply your friend? There’s nothing…  _ deeper  _ than that?”

Aelin heard implication in her voice, but wasn’t sure what she was referring to. “Prince Rowan is my  _ carranam  _ and my friend. That’s as far as it goes,”

“Hmm,” Manon hummed, taking a long drought of her wine. 

Before Aelin could further question the queen as to what she meant, she got her first request to dance from a young lord. Aelin smiled prettily and accepted, reluctantly leaving her wine behind and following him towards the swirling flood of skirts and jewels.

The hours wore on as conversation and drinks flowed. Voices grew louder as people became intoxicated and more comfortable. Aelin wasn’t sure how many dances she danced, nor could she name half of the men she had as partners. At this point of the night, she couldn’t find it within herself to care. 

“Do you mind if I step in?” Dorian asked.

Aelin was immensely glad to see her friend, especially as he took the place of a man who had stepped on her toes more times than she could count. He looked quite princely tonight in a tunic that brought out the bright blue of his eyes. Their hands floated up to the proper positions, the motion practically second nature at this point, before the next song started.

“I’m surprised you’re with me and not trying to woo Manon,” Aelin teased, her feet moving more on their own accord than anything.

Dorian dared a glance in the witch’s direct before his eyes snapped back to her. “Well, she is stunning, and I cannot say that it hasn’t crossed my mind, but I enjoy having all my organs in my body,”

Aelin snorted softly, though his concerns were valid. One good swipe with those iron nails would easily disembowel him. 

“You never know. Perhaps she’d like to sink her teeth into you in a good way,” Aelin waggled her brows.

Dorian’s eyes glimmered at the thought. “Well then, perhaps I may dare to speak with her this evening,”

She grinned at her friend as they continued to chat over the melody of the music. Soon, the sound of the viol and harp faded into silence and the dance came to an end. Dorian bowed at the waist while she curtsied before jerking her head subtly towards where Manon was lingering. He shook his head softly with a quiet laugh before strolling in her direction.

The crowd in the Great Hall was slowly thinning. Children had been ushered to bed hours ago, others retiring due to weariness or with a partner to share their bed with for the night. Her uncle had shuffled off to sleep with Darrow less than an hour ago, but her court was still scattered throughout the crowd. She scanned the room for a familiar face before there was a light tap on her shoulder.

Aelin turned, expecting to find another courtier whose name she had forgotten, only to see Rowan. A rush of relief flowed through her at the sight of her friend, glad they had finally found one another through the party. She was prepared to follow him to a quieter location, but was surprised when he dipped into a bow and held out a hand to her. 

At first, Aelin thought she misunderstood what he wanted. That is, until he voiced it aloud.

“May I have this dance, your highness?”

There was a happy shine in his pine green eyes, lips tilted in a crooked smile. She knew he was unused to such formalities, which only made her own grin grow even broader as she made a graceful curtsy, eyes never leaving his.

“Of course, prince,”

She hoped he couldn’t hear the thunderous beat of her heart as they positioned themselves. Aelin slipped her palm against his, their matching  _ carranam  _ scars pressed together. She placed a hand on a broad shoulder while his slipped to her waist, tugging her a fraction of an inch closer. She sucked down a deep breath as she looked up at him, at this handsome face she would miss so damned much. 

Aelin could have sworn they both stopped breathing in that beat of silence before the musicians began, and they started to move.

The princess was instantly shocked. Shocked, and completely, utterly delighted to find that Rowan was an amazing dancer. His feet moved with the softness and swiftness she had grown used to over their time training, never once faltering, never once missing a step. He must have noted her surprise, raising an amused brow. 

“I’ve told you before, princess. I did have court training,”

“Yes, well, hearing it and seeing it are two different things,” Aelin said. “Besides, I know plenty of men who have had court training and can’t dance to save their lives!”

They moved swiftly across the stone floor, bodies accustomed to how the other moved, the speed and grace they each possessed. Dancing with Rowan was like sparring with him. Aelin appreciated every fine move he made, every carefully placed step. He carried himself with practiced control, as if the waltz were second nature to him. Aelin knew she trusted him wholeheartedly, knowing he wouldn’t stomp on her toes. He twirled her away from him perfectly, before a tiny tug on her hand had her spinning back into his arms. Perfectly balanced, no tripping or awkward steps. Aelin had never felt more at ease with another male before in her life, had never been so comfortable and warm and happy with someone before.

Rowan, she realized, felt like home.

She was embraced by his pine and snow scent, focused on nothing but the familiar planes of his face, of the comforting weight on his hand on her hip. All other sights and sounds faded away as they moved. For all she knew, they could have been the only two people in the world, and she wouldn’t have minded one bit.

Rowan’s head tilted to the side, brows bunching in the middle. “Tell me what’s on your mind, Fireheart?”

Gods, he didn’t even know how much she cherished hearing that name fall from his lips, how, in a few months, she would be craving the sound with every bit of her body and soul.

Aelin was vaguely aware of the music swelling up around them, building up to the climax dramatically. Her fingers tightened on Rowan’s shoulder as she swallowed hard, banishing any lingering fears or inhibitions. She needn’t even be worried about what she was saying when she was with Rowan.

“I’m thinking…” Aelin began slowly, gnawing on her bottom lip as they began to spin faster and faster. “That this last year… it’s been a dream. I’ve been so happy.  _ You’ve  _ made me so happy,”

“Aelin…” Rowan breathed, a pained look crossing over his face.

“Somehow, you’ve managed to become my most cherished friend,” she continued, breaths becoming more and more rapid. “You’re my friend, my mentor, my  _ carranam,  _ and just  _ so  _ much more, Rowan.”

Aelin felt as though the music was sweeping into her pores, slowly filling up her body. Her heart was beating wildly, a steady tug reminding her that it was there, keeping time with the music as it neared its peak. Rowan’s chest was rising and falling just as fast as hers, feeling his own fingers dig into her hip a bit tighter.

“I’m thinking,” Aelin rasped, hating how her voice cracked with emotion. “That I’ve allowed myself to grow to like being with you too much, that I like to train with you and see you laugh and smile. And gods, Rowan, when you smile at me? I feel like I’m going to burst into flames, and I could burn for hours out of pure joy,”

The music grew louder and louder, ringing through her head as her blood heated up. The strings cried out as the piece crawled to its final, emotional movement.

“I’m thinking that when you leave, Rowan,” Aelin continued, unable to tear her eyes away from his face, from his kind, understanding eyes. “I won’t know what to do with myself. I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to say goodbye,”

And as those final words left her lips, the music crashed into striking climax, the notes shattering all across the room and echoing through her very bones.

And as those notes descended from the heavens, Aelin’s body froze with a gasp. The most powerful force she had ever felt barreled through her, mind, body, and soul. It felt as though every bit of her melted and was forged anew, stronger, brighter, clearer. Rowan’s face mimicked hers, dropping one another and taking a step back. Aelin didn’t know how everyone in the room didn’t feel it. Couldn’t sense that small string that held Aelin and Rowan together shift into an unbreakable, steel chain. The strength of it was warm and comforting, though the force of it all hitting her at once, had her panting out breaths. ****  
** **

Aelin knew immediately what it was.

A mating bond.

She had read books about the Fae and the intricacies of mating bonds. It had always been described as indescribable, something you would immediately knew once you felt it. And there was no doubt in Aelin’s heart about what that tether between her and the Fae Prince was.

Rowan was her mate.

It was an answer and a million questions that Aelin couldn’t bring herself to fathom. Not now, as her heart beat wildly with glee, and almost recognition, telling her that the male before her was  _ hers. _

Rowan’s brows were knitted together, lips parted softly. She knew he had felt it too, watching with bated breath as his hand crept up and rested over his own heart. Her entire world seemed to slow to a stop when his eyes locked in on hers, and simply shook his head once.

And just like that, that world shattered.

Aelin gasped and jumped back, her heart wrenching beneath her ribs. It was so painful, unlike anything she had ever experienced. That simple movement, no more than a twitch of the neck, and plunged a burning dagger right through her chest.

_ No. _

He had shaken his head, rejected the mating bond, rejected  _ her. _

_ No. _

He didn’t want it.

The massive hall suddenly felt too small, too crowded, too loud. Aelin slapped a hand over her mouth as her eyes welled with tears, swiftly turning heel and ducking her face down so nobody could watch her shatter.

She weaved through the crowd as politely as she could, trying her best to hold herself together until she could reach somewhere private. She was just glad that the guests hardly spared her a second look as she crept towards the exit, quietly crossing the threshold and slipping into the desolate halls. Aelin wasted little time before bunching her skirts in her fists and taking off down the corridors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> … and there it is!  
> sorry for the late update but I am super excited to share this chapter with yall!   
> also, we hit 900 kudos and we're about to hit 12,000 hits so, once again, thank you guys so so much for all your support on the story!  
> and, I should warn yall now, ik I left this chapter on another angsty cliffhanger, but its probably gonna be at least a week, maybe longer until I can update again. I've got midterms coming up.  
> but, I promise you, once the wait is up, its going to be good.  
> let me know what yall think!!!


	34. Chapter 34

Rowan was frozen in place.

The feeling was undeniable. Aelin Ashryver Galathynius was his mate.

It was impossible, while feeling so impossibly  _ right  _ at the same time. 

The female with a heart and soul of wildfire, his friend, his  _ carranam, _ was his mate.

_ His mate. _

Who was no longer standing before him as she just was.

As the shock wore off, Rowan realized that she had disappeared. He remembered the fragile hope that had painted her stunning face as he looked at him, only to be replaced with devastation because-

Because he had shaken his godsdamned head.

He was the biggest rutting idiot alive. He hadn’t been rejecting her, gods no. He had shaken his head in disbelief, that all the impossible questions he had been wondering were finally answered. But the way that simple movement would have looked to Aelin… she had been hurt. His mate was somewhere within the castle, heart in turmoil because of a mistake he made. He had to find her.

Rowan tore off into the crowd, ignoring the shouts and protests as he shoved his way through the thick sea of people towards the doors. She had slipped away that way.

Rowan strained his ears once he stepped into the starkly silent halls, but couldn’t hear anything. He scented the air before he latched on to her scent. Her scent, that was intertwined with his. Rowan had put off the fact to spending so much time with her, sharing the same bed, but it was so much deeper than that.

His body acted mostly on instinct as he sprinted down the halls, skidding around corners, moving as fast as he ever had. His mind was consumed by Aelin, about where she was, if she were safe, how she was feeling. She should be by his side.

Rowan followed his scent towards her chambers, hearing soft sniffling as he grew closer and closer. He didn’t bother knocking, didn’t even think once about, before throwing the doors open and striding inside, magic spearing out and searching for any potential threats.

But there wasn’t any.

The only person in the room was Aelin, hunched over on the edge of her bed, head in her hands until she heard him enter. Her face snapped up to his, cheeks red, eyes puffy and wide with confusion. Rowan strode over to her, and the sorrow in Aelin's brilliant eyes brought him to his knees.

“Aelin…” he croaked, unsure of what to say, how he could even begin to make her feel better.

There were wet streaks striping her cheeks. “Rowan,” she sobbed before burying her face in her hands once again, shoulders trembling. “I’m sorry. I’m  _ so  _ sorry,”

Rowan reached out and pried her hands away from her face, lacing her fingers with his own and squeezing them tightly. He didn’t know why she was apologizing, couldn’t fathom any reason even if he tried.

Rowan watched as she looked to him, bottom lip quivering.

“It doesn’t make any sense,” Aelin whimpered. “I can’t be your mate. You have one. Lyria…” she was at a loss for words, simply shaking her head. “It doesn’t make any  _ sense.  _ I wondered it, sometimes. If that bridge between us was more than just the  _ carranam  _ bond, but they were foolish thoughts because they couldn’t be true. You had Lyria, you loved her… I understand that you don’t want that again,”

“No, Aelin, that’s not it at all,” he said pleadingly. He reached out and laid his palm against her damp cheek, her eyes wide and confused and pained and  _ hopeful.  _ Rowan breathed deeply and wet his lips before he continued. “I wondered it too. If you were my mate. All those days I spent in the library, I was looking for some mention of having more than one mate in a lifetime, hoping and praying to find some mention of it, to know that what I was feeling didn’t make me crazy,”

“Did you… did you find anything?” Aelin whispered.

“Just… theories. Many philosophers believed that having more than one mate was entirely possible, just so rare that it had never been encountered before. But, just because no one had seen it yet, doesn’t mean that it can’t be true,”

Aelin blinked rapidly as the information settled in on her.

For months and months now, Rowan had been wondering why his pull to Aelin was so strong, stronger than what he even had felt for Lyria. Guilt had stopped him for seeking answers at first, not wanting to betray Lyria’s memory, but as his feelings for Aelin grew, he knew he needed to know one way or another.

But he never got a solid answer. Just theories and hypotheses, leading to more questions.

If that bond hadn’t snapped in to place tonight, perhaps they wouldn’t have ever known. Perhaps Rowan would have been questioning if the princess of Terrasen was truly his mate until the day he died.

But now he knew.

And though it seemed impossible, what he was feeling was undeniable.

This remarkable, beautiful, kind, stunning woman was his mate.

And no one could know. 

“Aelin…” Rowan murmured, heart twisting painfully in his chest. “We cannot tell anyone of this,”

“Why?” Aelin asked, squeezing his hand tighter though he knew she already knew the answer to her own question.

“People will try to use it against you. Maeve will try to manipulate you because of your bond to me. We cannot risk it,”

A few fresh tears welled from her eyes as she squeezed them shut and shook her head. Rowan reached out and tenderly brushed them away.

“The bond… it will always be there, but we can ignore it,” Rowan reasoned.

“I can’t,” 

“Yes you can, Aelin. I know you ca-”

“No I can’t!” Aelin cried out desperately, turning those gleaming, pleading eyes on him. “Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t,”

“Why?”

“Because I love you!”

And there it was.

All Rowan could do was look at her, watching as her chest rose and fell with each deep, steadying breath she sucked down. She pressed her lips together while she looked within herself for the proper words.

“I am in love with you, Rowan,” she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I have been for longer than I care to admit, but it’s true. I love you, and even if I tried to ignore the bond, that little tug will never let me forget it. Or forget you,”

Rowan studied her, at the heartbreak and sincerity written on her features. She was watching him steadily, waiting for him to give a response he hadn’t thought of yet. She had bared her heart and soul to him, and all he could do was stare.

Her face was tight, as if his silence stung. Her fingers curled into fists in her lap, balling the green velvet of her skirts, angling her face away from him.

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” she spoke softly, eyes downcast. “I should have-”

But she wasn’t able to get another word out. Rowan’s hands shot out, taking her face between them before crashing his lips down upon hers. He heard Aelin’s sharp intake of breath as she registered what was happening, but it wasn’t long before her fingers tangled in his short locks and she was kissing him back.

As one, they rose to their feet. Rowan tilted her back back slightly, changing the angle so he could kiss her deeper.

He had wondered for so long what it would be like to have Aelin’s lips against his own, and he was plenty happy to take his time with the reality.

The kiss was the answer to a thousand ancient questions. Her lips were soft and moved against his languidly, parting for him when he swiped his tongue across their seam. He held back a groan at her taste, at the feeling of her tounge caressing his, the soft scrape of her canines. It was an all-consuming kiss. The world could have gone up in flames around them and Rowan wouldn’t have noticed.

Aelin sighed into his mouth as he softly nipped on her plump bottom lip before pulling back slowly. Her eyes were still shut softly when he opened his. But, they began to crack open, nearly painfully slowly. Rowan wanted to look her in the eyes before he spoke.

Her irises were bright even in the dim light, glazed with hope and want and  _ love.  _ It was the greatest thing he had ever seen.

Rowan skimmed the pad of his thumb over her cheek, holding her close before whispering, “I love you too, Aelin Galathynius,”

…

Aelin was sure she was dreaming, that her mind had imagined those words falling from Rowan’s mouth. It was surely too good to be true, that what she had craved to hear for all these months had finally been uttered.

But it was real.

Her lips still tingled pleasantly in the aftermath of Rowan’s kiss, the thud of her heart still pounding in her ears. 

He was looking at her as if she were the most precious thing in the world. 

Aelin’s hands crept up slowly, as if moving too quickly would shatter the moment. Her palms framed his face, curving against his strong jaw. Her touch was soft, tender, and she beheld him. The strongest Fae male alive, her mentor, her friend, her  _ carranam,  _ her mate, the male she loved who loved her back. She was flooded with powerful emotions, all flickering through her so fast, with such strength, that she couldn’t even begin to name them.

But she knew one.

Happy.

She was so, godsdamned happy.

Aelin simply held him, letting her fingers skim over the planes of his face, noticing every lash, the brown in the green of his eyes, the swirls of his tattoo, as if it were the first time she was seeing him. In a way, it was. She was looking at Rowan in a new light, looking at the male she loved and she knew loved her back.

Her fingers slipped into the short hair on the back of his neck, rocking forward on her toes, and kissing him again.

It was chaste compared to the passionate one Rowan had bestowed on her before, barely more than a brush of lips. It was exploratory on her part, to see what he would do if she initiated it, to make sure he was comfortable. She pulled back slightly, just far enough to gauge his reaction.

His eyes were heavily lidded, intense, as his fingers slowly plucked the pins from her hair, removing her tiara, before they twisted into her golden locks. A heat blasted through her blood as he grabbed her waist and pulled her against his body.

For one heartbeat, they were still, not even daring to blink. 

In the next, they were upon each other. 

It was impossible to tell who had moved first, if they hadn’t moved in unison, but in a blink, they were a tangle of limbs and lips.

Rowan’s mouth was on her, kissing her deeply, hungrily enough that Aelin sighed against his lips. She could taste faint traces of wine on his tongue as it tangled with hers, feel the scrape of his canines against her bottom lip as he playfully nipped at it. She arched against him, pushing herself closer to the heat of his body.

Her blood burned delightful, skin practically jumping in joy at every spot she touched Rowan, but she wanted more.

Her hands slid down his torso, over the fabric of his tunic until she reached the hem. Aelin didn’t think twice before slipping her fingers under the cloth, running her palms over hot skin stretched over hard muscle.

Rowan groaned into the kiss while she continued her exploration, fingers tracing every dip and curve of the body she had only been able to admire from afar. Her palms slid higher and higher up his back, feeling every scar that scattered his golden tan skin, but she wanted more, needed  _ more. _

Rowan shrugged off the tunic in one movement, breaking the connection of their lips while he tossed the fabric to the ground before he was instantly back upon her.

Aelin’s fingernails dug into the flesh of his shoulder while he kissed her like no other man had ever kissed her before. It was intoxicating.

She felt his fingers creep towards the back of her gown, fiddling with the laces but making no move to untie them. He was hesitant, giving her the opportunity to stop him if she wished. But she didn’t.

“Rowan,” she gasped out pleadingly, hoping he would understand what she desired. 

Judging by the low growl that rumbled in his chest and how his fingers quickly began the tedious process of unlacing her gown, he got the message.

She felt the back of the gown loosening bit by bit. Aelin’s lips moved from Rowan’s to his jaw, trailing open-mouthed kisses down the strong column of his throat. She could hear his ragged breathing as her tongue darted out and traced the dips and valleys of his chest, fingers following the swirls of his beautifully brutal tattoos. 

Gods, his body.

She had never allowed herself to look too long, but no longer denied herself the pleasure. He was beautifully built, honed by centuries of battle and bloodshed, strength and power covering every inch. Her eyes and hands discovered new scars she hadn’t noticed in the quick glances she had stolen in the past, trying to map them all in her mind.

Her dress was loose enough that Rowan need only brush it off her shoulders, but he didn’t quite yet. He swiftly scooped her up, claiming her mouth once again while he cupped the back of her knees, her legs wrapping around his waist while he carried her over to the beds.

Rowan reverently lowered her against the thick blankets, still situated between her legs. Aelin watched as his nostrils flared, no doubt scenting the desire that was racing through her blood, pooling at the pit of her stomach. She could tell Rowan felt the same, could see the evidence straining against his trousers. 

Aelin had never wanted anyone as much as she wanted Rowan in this moment. She wanted him, his hands, his mouth, all over her. Her neck, her stomach, her breasts,  _ anywhere. Everywhere. _

She could see Rowan’s self-control at work while her leaned over her, his fingers tugging at the shoulders of her gown and sliding it torturously slow down her torso, her legs, until it was off. She heard him groan a filthy curse when he saw her completely bare below him.

Aelin smirked at the reaction she had caused, at his pupils blown wide with lust while his eyes hungrily roamed over her body.

“Do you often attend balls without undergarments?” Rowan asked, voice carefully soft.

Aelin shrugged. “The design of the dress didn’t allow for them,”

The Fae prince simply smiled and shook his head, dragging a hand down his mouth while he continued to take in her bare body. She heard his breathing pick up as she arched her back for him, arms thrown over her head and bottom lip between her teeth.

Rowan reached out and ran his thumb over her parted lips before his hand began to trail south. His palm ran over her throat, gliding over her collarbone before traveling to one of her breasts. Aelin gasped, hips bucking up as he ran his thumb teasingly soft over her peaked nipple. His broad hand traveled down her ribs, her waist, to her thigh, leaving gooseflesh in its wake.

Aelin looked to him, seeing the amusement on his face when he saw what his touch did to her. She wanted to snarl at him, but before she could, his lips were back on hers.

“I’ve thought about this so many times,” Rowan murmured into the kiss before his mouth began to travel down. He started at her jaw, taking his sweet time to work his way down to her neck.

“Oh?” Aelin whispered, about as articulate as she could be with the powerful lust running through her.

“I wondered what you would look like. Naked, under me.” His mouth moved to her collarbone. “I wondered if your skin was as soft as it looked, about what sounds you would make when I touched you,”

She sucked down a sharp breath as his lips reached the swell of her breast, teeth clamping down on her bottom lip to keep quiet, but it didn’t work, not as he took a nipple into his mouth. Her entire body jerked with a gasp at the sensation. She could practically feel Rowan’s smug smirk against her before his mouth continued to trail down the middle of her abdomen, lower. He paused at the puckered white scar, courtesy of an iron coated arrow. He pressed a slow, loving kiss to the old wound before continuing.

But he stopped right before he reached where she wanted him most.

Aelin’s breathing was erratic as she felt his breath between her legs, teasingly waiting. She needed something before she burst into flames.

One warm hand squeezed her thigh before she felt a finger swipe right down the middle of her. Aelin cried out at the pleasure the simple touch had brought, hearing Rowan groan from between her legs as he found the evidence of her desire for him.

“Gods, Aelin,” he rasped, continuing to stroke her in soft, teasing strokes that had her hips rutting up, wanting more,  _ needing  _ more.

“Rowan,” she gasped. “Please,”

Those few words seemed to be the only encouragement he needed.

His mouth descended between her legs, Aelin unable to hold back the loud cry of absolute pleasure that left her lips at the sensation. His tongue stroked her expertly, coaxing moans and noises she didn’t even know she was capable of making from parted lips. Her hand shot out and tangled into his hair while he used his own to pin her hips to the bed.

“Oh gods,  _ yes, _ ” Aelin whimpered. 

One of his fingers easily slipped into her, immediately pumping a few times before adding another. The mix of the sensations of his mouth and his fingers had Aelin’s eyes rolling into the back of her head in pure euphoria.

Her breathing quickened as he worked her to her peak. She wasn’t sure if she was moaning pleads, or his name, or simply unintelligible noises, but couldn’t bring herself to care as his fingers sped up and he sucked hard on the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs. With that, she came undone, crying out as her legs shook from the force of her pleasure. He worked her through her high, mouth and fingers moving slower and slower until she had gone limp. Rowan’s fingers slipped out, pressing a few kisses to the inside of her thighs before his body slid back up hers. He brushed hair from her sweat-glazed face.

Aelin pushed herself up on her elbows and crashed her lips against his once again. She rose until both she and Rowan were on their knees, pressing her bare body against his, both moaning at the sensation.

Her nimble fingers shot down, quickly undoing the laces of his trousers. He hissed against her lips as her hand dipped below the waistband and took him within her hand. She languidly stroked his length, but not for long before Rowan swiftly laid her down on her back and disposed of his trousers himself.

Aelin’s mouth went dry as he kneeled between her legs. For the first time, she took in every single inch of him for the first time.

And every single inch of him was  _ hers. _

Rowan fell to his forearms and crawled up her body, instantly capturing her lips once again. Aelin didn’t think she would get tired of his kiss, even if she lived to be two thousand. He grabbed one of her thighs, hiking it up his waist, her other leg wrapping around his hips as well. He positioned himself at her entrance, but didn’t move.

Rowan pulled his mouth from hers with a sigh, eyes screwed shut as he rested his flushed forehead against her own.

“Are you sure about this, Aelin?” he croaked out.

She looked into the face of the man she loved, heart beating wildly. Every day for the past year had led to this moment, every snarl or joke, every longing gaze or lingering touch, every story shared to tear shed. It all had brought them to this moment. There was only one thing to say.

“I’ve never wanted anything more,” Aelin whispered, brushing her lips against his. “I love you, Rowan Whitethorn,”

“I love you, Aelin. Gods, I love you,” he ground out before kissing her deeply again. Aelin threw her arms over his broad shoulders as he carefully angled their hips and slowly pushed into her.

They groaned in unison as they joined, as Rowan fully sheathed himself inside her. Neither moved for a few moments, adjusting to the feeling of one another.

Rowan’s face was buried in her neck, Aelin’s forehead pressed against his shoulder. She had never felt anything like it. She had been intimate with other men before and it had all been enjoyable, but nothing felt as perfectly  _ right  _ as this did.

Aelin kissed his shoulder, a silent message that she was ready.

Rowan’s shaking breath ghosted across her neck as he carefully pulled out nearly all the way before pushing back in. Aelin sighed, eyes fluttered shut at the pleasure that flashed through her body as he set a slow rhythm. Rowan’s lips were against her neck, the hand that wasn’t holding her hip kneading her breasts.

Aelin could smell smoke. She was singeing her sheets, but didn’t care. Not when Rowan was moving inside of her.

Soft gasps and moans slipped from her lips as he began to pick up speed. She couldn’t think of anything beyond their joining, from his mouth on her neck to the feeling of his body pressed against her. 

“Rowan,” Aelin whimpered, fingers digging into his taut muscles. His thrusts grew harder and faster at the sound of his name tumbling from her lips.

Her moans grew louder as her pleasure built up, as he continued to hit that one spot within her that banished all coherent thought from her head. She felt herself growing closer, could feel herself growing tighter and tighter around him, starting to buck her hips up in time to his, meeting him thrust for thrust.

Aelin held Rowan close as he leaned back far enough to meet her eye, to see the pleasure washed over her face as he made love to her.

“I love you,” Aelin said breathlessly.

“I love you, Aelin,” 

She threw her head back as he moved faster, harder, exposing her throat to him. Rowan’s lips latched on to her neck, tongue darting out as he sucked on the sensitive skin. With one mighty thrust, Rowan sank his teeth into her flesh, and Aelin shattered around him. Rowan followed her to her high, gasping slightly as his spilled himself into her, hips slowing to a stop.

Aelin was breathing heavily, body sweaty and exhausted, as she came back down to earth. Rowan was pressing soft kisses over her neck before moving to her face, lips skimming over her cheeks, nose, forehead, before finally landing once again on her lips as he cradled her face and kissed her deeply.

Rowan looked at her, eyes still hazy from the aftermath of their lust, but no less intense. He smoothed her hair from her face.

“You’re mine, Aelin Galathynius,”

A slow nod. “I’m yours, and you’re mine,”

The joy on his face was breathtaking. “I’m yours,” he kissed her again, deeply and slowly. “To whatever end,”

Aelin grinned as he shifted his weight off her and tugged her body to his chest. Rowan’s arms wrapped around her tightly, as if he never wanted to let go.

Aelin smiled softly, brushing hair from his face. “To whatever end,”

She pressed herself closer to his chest, fingers making lazy circles and swirls over the skin of his back and shoulders. She was so unbelievably content, so comfortable in the moment that she never wanted it to end. Aelin inhaled deeply, taking in his scent, as her eyes fluttered shut. 

Rowan stroked his knuckles down the dip of her spine. She felt a chuckle rumble in his chest.

“Tired already, princess?”

Aelin cracked her eyes open, peeking up at him through her lashes, a tiny smirk curling to her lips. She shifted them until Rowan was on his back, ber bare body draped over his. She pressed a slow kiss to his lips, pulling back only far enough so she could murmur, “I’m just getting started,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here is the literal chapter that I started writing this story for. Their first kiss played out in my head once and I built an entire AU around it. 140k+ words posted, 170k+ words written (And growing), all because a snippet of a scene I saw in my head.  
> I got to post this earlier than I expected bc I ended up staying up until like 3 writing when I told myself I would only write a page. So, you can thank my bad time management skills for this chapter.  
> thank you all for the love and support you've given this story. this chapter is for yall.


	35. Chapter 35

Rowan couldn’t remember the last time he had slept so well. Deep, peaceful, dreamless. He was slow to awake, finding the room already filled with bright sunlight when he finally deigned to open his eyes. 

Aelin’s bedroom. He saw his discarded clothes bunched up on the floor, the princess’s fine dress pooled beside the bed. He sincerely hoped it wasn’t wrinkled. He would never hear the end of it. 

Aelin herself was curled into his side, still sleeping peacefully. Her lips were parted, breaths coming out deep and steady. Her lashes cast long shadows down the curves of her cheeks. She looked beautiful in the golden morning light, brightening her hair and illuminating her skin. 

His mate.

Rowan ran the back of his hand softly over her messy hair, just watching her. 

Last night, hearing that she loved him, tasting her lips, tumbling into bed with her… it was more than he ever could have hoped for. The entire night had been a dream. They had spent hours with their lips pressed against one another’s, tasting, touching, exploring and learning each other's bodies.

He had taken her a few more times throughout the night, learning what spots to kiss on her neck to make her gasp, finding what really made the firebringer burn. 

They had eventually tired themselves out, collapsing in a tangle of limbs and heavy breathing until sleep finally claimed them. 

He heard her release a tiny sigh as his soft ministrations continued, fingers trailing down her sides, skimming over her thighs. He would never get tired of being so close to her, of having the pleasure of touching her so freely. 

“Is it morning already?” Aelin whispered, shifting in his arms.

He pressed a chaste kiss to the tip of her nose. “We have time,”

Aelin hummed, brilliant eyes peeling open and landing on him. There was a softness on her face that came with being comfortable, that came with pure, unadulterated joy. It made her even more stunning. 

She signed in content, stretching her arms over her head. Rowan’s eyes couldn’t help skipping down to her breasts as the sheets slipped down her lithe form. He felt a familiar heat go through him at the sight of her naked beside him. He would have guessed that they would have got it all out of their system last night, but as her eyes locked on his, dark with hunger, Rowan was able to scent her own desire as well.

“Eager so early,” Aelin drawled.

“Can you blame me?” Rowan asked, grabbing her waist and tugging her flush against his body. He captured her lips, parting hers with his own, tongue sweeping into her mouth. He kissed her lazily, languidly. He kissed her as if they had all the time in the world. Aelin sighed into his mouth, arching into him more while her arms twisted over his neck. 

Aelin threw a leg over his waist, straddling him as Rowan sat them up. He pushed her tousled hair from her face, smoothing it away before his hands drifted to her hips. She groaned into his mouth as she ground her hips against his. 

“Eager, aren’t we?” Rowan said, teasing the princess the same way she had teased him. 

She bit down on his bottom lip sharply in response, hard enough to draw a hiss from Rowan. She lifted her hips, his hands gently guiding her as she positioned herself above him. They groaned in unison as Aelin slowly sunk down on him. 

Aelin set a leisurely speed as she moved, humming and whimpering in pleasure. Rowan’s fingers curled in tighter into her waist as he began to roll his hips upward, matching her speed as he thrust up in her. 

Aelin groaned and threw her head back, biting her bottom lip. 

The sight of her face flushed with pleasure in the bright morning light was one of the most beautiful things he had ever had the pleasure of witnessing.

…

Aedion Ashryver had been chasing his cousin for as long as he could remember.

Well, for as long as Aelin had been able to walk, really.

Aedion had known his duty to his future queen from the moment she had been born, had known he would do anything to protect her since she first looked at him with eyes that match his own. She had been a babe then, still swaddled in Evalin’s arms, a tiny puff of golden hair atop her head. She had cracked her eyes open and held his finger with a tiny fist.

Aedion had been five then. He had known even then that taking care of tiny, innocent, Aelin would be his purpose.

If only he had known what a hellion she would become.

Aedion had remembered how excited he had been when she took her first steps, how he was hovering beside her while she waddled around to make sure she didn’t fall and hurt herself. He remembered how happy Evalin and Rhoe and Orlon had been watching them.

Little did he know that he would later curse the day Aelin ever learned how to walk.

Next thing Aedion knew, he had been chasing after her as she ran through the halls, squealing with glee but making him so damned nervous that she would get hurt. Aelin hadn’t seemed worried, weaving between legs and skidding around corners. Aedion was always there, scooting away a knife that had somehow ended too close to her grabby hands, or making sure she didn’t bump her head when she was hiding under the table.

He had been there to warn her not to climb too high up the tree, to scold her when she fell and hurt herself, and to clean and bandage the wound later.

As Aelin had grown older, she grew tired of his constant presence and tried to evade him. For a good while, she was never successful, but from every failure, she learned.

She would find ways to slip off unnoticed, sneaking candies from the kitchens or blushing with a young boy. Aedion was always sent to find her, and she was always pissed off when he did.

But, as she matured, they grew to an understanding. He would always be there, no matter what. Her family, her friend, her protector. He would one day swear an eternal oath to her. He wouldn’t be leaving her alone any time soon.

He was the one to keep an eye on her, to know her location at all times, and to find her when she didn’t want to be found.

Such as this morning.

Aelin was supposed to be in the dining room thirty minutes ago for breakfast with her court, Adarlan’s, and Manon with her witches before they departed. Aedion knew she was aware of the event, had reminded her himself the night before. But she was  _ late.  _

Perhaps she could have gotten away with not showing up if Queen Gerogina hadn’t asked of her whereabouts at least three times. By the fourth, Orlon had given him a look that said,  _ Please go retrieve her. _

And so Aedion had excused himself and strolled down the halls in the direction of his cousin’s chambers. She had probably just overslept. Perhaps she had too much wine the night before, slipping her in a deeper sleep than she was used to. It wouldn’t be the first time she had done it, and he couldn’t really blame her. He had done it plenty of times as well.

He had to rouse her from drunken slumber more times than he could remember. It wasn’t anything new. She was probably snoring softly under a mountain of blankets and pillows.

Which is why he didn’t hesitate when pushing open the doors to her rooms.

“Aelin, you are so la-”

But he never finished the sentence. Could barely finish the thought when her shocked gasp rang through the room.

Aedion didn’t know what to say, not with the sight before him.

Aelin in bed, straddling Rowan Whitethorn.

The Fae prince instantly angled his body to hide her bareness, arm slipping around her back and tugging her against him. Aelin grabbed a handful of sheets, bunching them against her chest, lips still parted in shock. 

If the precarious position he found them in didn’t tell Aedion what they had been doing, then the suffocating scent in the air did. 

“Aedion…” his cousin whispered carefully, as if she was trying to console a spooked animal.

But he wasn’t even looking at her. Aedion’s blood burned with cold, careful rage as he locked eyes with the silver-haired warrior whom he had interrupted from bedding his future queen. He felt his fingers curl into fists, breathing carefully labored as he tried to restrain himself from trying to kill him.

But Rowan was just as poised for violence, holding himself with animal stillness while his eyes bored unblinkingly into his. Aedion felt an icy breeze blow through the room, the prince’s immense power readying itself for a fight over the female he currently had in his arms.

But as much as Aedion wanted to tear Rowan limb from limb, he wasn’t stupid. That wasn’t a fight he was going to win.

His eyes finally dragged to Aelin’s, who was looking at him nervously as she ran a calming hand down Rowan’s arm.

It took every ounce of self-control Aedion possessed to grind out his next words in an almost calm manner.

“You were late for breakfast. I was sent to get you,” he said, jaw clenching tightly. “I will tell our guests that you were… indisposed,”

“Aedion,” she rasped once again, pleadingly.

But he ignored the sound of her voice, swiftly turning heel, slamming the door behind him, and storming down the halls.

He needed to hit something, needed to find an outlet for his frustration and fury before he did something he would regret. Perhaps he could go hack a training dummy until he tore it to pieces, perhaps he could find someone foolish enough to spar him when he was in such a state. 

Gods, it was as if the image of Aelin and Rowan together had been burned into his eyes. He couldn’t blink away the image no matter how hard he tried.

He had known they were close. Had known that they were friends and  _ carranam, _ but never would have guessed that they were lovers. Perhaps he had been foolish, perhaps he had only seen what he wanted to. The way Aelin would look at him… Aedion had assumed it was just a friendly fondness. Never would he have assumed that she had wanted him. ****  
** **

Soft, rapid footfalls came his way.

“Aedion, stop!” Aelin demanded, coming up quickly behind him.

He glanced quickly at his cousin, at the robe wrapped hastily around her body, hair messy, lips still slightly swollen. He could barely look at her, could hardly stand to be so close. All he could scent was Rowan, what they had been doing.

“Not now,” Aedion bit, continuing down the hall.

But Aelin grabbed his arm in an iron grip and dragged him off to the side, towards a dark quiet hall. He begrudgingly followed, planting himself before her as Aelin wrapped her arms tightly around herself.

“Aedion, please, you can’t tell anyone-”

“Tell anyone what? That you’re bedding Rowan Whitethorn? The male that has been teaching you magic? One of Maeve’s warriors?” he laughed bitterly. “Honestly, Aelin. How stupid can you be?”

“You need to listen-”

“No, Aelin,  _ you  _ need to listen,” Aedion growled, taking a step closer to his cousin. She didn’t shy away from the fury in his eyes as many men would have, simply holding his gaze and tilting her chin higher. “It’s none of my business who you take to bed, but out of every male, you pick him? He’s here on Maeve’s order. She probably told him to seduce you and whisk you off to Doranelle just like she's always wanted. How could you let yourself get to this point? What could he possibly have said to make you spread your legs-"

"He's my mate!"

Aedion froze at Aelin's broken words, at the desperation that filled each syllable. He scoured her face for any trace of dishonesty, but found only sorrow and heartbreak, eyes that were glazed with tears she was trying to keep at bay. 

Aedion found himself at a loss for words as Aelin's bottom lip began to tremble.

"Rowan is my mate," she rasped out a whisper. "And we can't risk telling anyone. Because of Maeve, because of the damned blood oath. I'm in love with him… and he still must leave,"

_ Mate.  _ Rowan Whitethorn was her godsdamned mate. A mating bond could be ignored, it didn’t guarantee feelings, but Aelin was in love with a male who she couldn’t truly be with. If Maeve learned of the bond… it would be terrible. She would use it to hurt both of them to get what she desired. But if the  _ world  _ learned of the bond, it would be catastrophic. Politically, it could ruin any chance of a foreign, advantageous marriage for Aelin since there were few men out there who would risk the wrath of the most powerful Fae male in the world. And if other kingdoms learned that the firebringer was mated to an equally powerful male, they would instantly be hunted. Together, there was too much power, a lingering potential that they would conquer the continent on a whim.  And any offspring would be both feared and coveted.

He knew that Aelin had realized all this and more, could tell that she felt the crushing disappointment and pain that came alongside it. He couldn’t begin to imagine what she was feeling, couldn’t think of any words to say that could ease her agony.

So he simply reached out and tugged her against his chest. He felt her shudder as she embraced him back, could hear her sniffling softly as he ran a soothing hand down her hair. 

No one could know this. It would put her in far too much danger. 

His hands landed on her shoulders, pulling her back gently but firmly, until she was looking up at him with puffy eyes. 

“Go back to him,” Aedion said softly. “I’ll cover for you,”

Aelin nodded, swallowing hard. “Thank you, Aedion,”

He kissed her brow, patting her back and sending her on her way before someone spotted the princess wandering the halls in a silk robe. Aedion waited until Aelin slipped out of his sight before releasing a deep breath that he didn’t even know he had been holding. 

Aedion ran a hand through his unbound hair before beginning his trek towards the dining hall, trying to concoct some story that would be believable and wouldn’t spark any prying questions from Georgina. He braced himself before pushing open the grand doors, all eyes jumping towards him.

“Aelin…” he began slowly. “Is feeling unwell. Feminine things, you know,”

The men in the room seemed bashful and looked down to their plates while the women nodded in understanding. All of the women save for Lysandra, whose eyes narrowed suspiciously. He would deal with that later. 

And so, Aedion took his seat and tried to think of anything but the image of Aelin and her mate down the hall.

…

Rowan was pacing when Aelin walked back into the room. He halted abruptly, green eyes snapping to her as she shut the door behind her. He had shrugged on his trousers, slung low on his hips. His brows rose slightly.

_ Well? _

“He’s not going to say anything, but he knows,”

“How much?”

“Everything,”

Rowan sighed, eyes screwing shut as Aelin swiftly closed the space between them, hands cradling his face and pulling his lips down to meet hers. 

“It’s okay,” Aelin whispered against his mouth, kissing him again and again. “I love you,”

His fingers tangled in her hair as he deepened the kiss. Her arms draped over his neck, pressing herself against him, just wanting to be close to him, to feel his steady strength, to know that everything was going to be okay. 

“I love you, Aelin,” he breathed, holding her against him tightly, as if she would disappear if he let go.

She knew that Aedion discovering them together had been an unpleasant shock for both of them, Rowan in particular. She knew he felt it was his fault, that he should have had up a shield in case something like that were to happen. Aelin was happy, at least, that Aedion and Rowan hadn’t torn each other to shreds. She knew that her mate had been one wrong look away from pouncing, Aedion probably the same. Damned those Fae males and their territorial bullshit.

But, they held one another until a calm had settled over them again. She felt the tension leave Rowan’s shoulders as she stroked lazy circles across his back, felt every hint of aggression flow away until his heart was a steady drum in her ears.

“Aedion’s covering for me,” Aelin murmured, nuzzling her head into the crook of his neck. “We have the day to ourselves. Is there anything in particular you want to do?”

Rowan simply groaned softly in response, pressing soft kisses against her neck, brushing the silk of her nightgown off her shoulder, baring more skin for him. 

Gods, his mouth was positively sinful. She couldn’t think of anything else when his lips were against her. It was intoxicating. Her neck craned back, feeling Rowan chuckle as she offered her throat to him. He wasted no time before claiming the new, bared skin. 

“I might have a few ideas,” Rowan taunted, tongue darting out and tracing lazy patterns over her neck. “I’m quite sure we didn’t finish what we started this morning,”

Aelin moaned as he untied her robe and began to run his broad hands over her bare skin, teasing her, not touching her where she really wanted him to. 

“I think you’re right,” Aelin said, smirking up at him.

There was a flash of canines before Aelin was suddenly bare and pressed between Rowan’s body and the mattress. Her legs instantly wrapped around his waist, content to lose herself in their own little world for a bit longer.

…

They spent the rest of the day and evening lounging around Aelin’s rooms. Touching, whispering, holding. A new kind of ease had developed between them, no longer cautious of where they touched, no longer struggling to keep one another at arm's length. 

Rowan made full use of this new dynamic. He could barely keep his hands off of her. Whether it be when they made love, or casual, languid touches. His hands were always on her, holding her waist, tracing down her back, pulling her tighter against him.

They spoke non-stop about everything, everything except the one thing that was on both of their minds.

Maeve.

No matter what, no matter that they had just discovered that they were mates, had just confessed their love to one another, that didn’t change the fact that he would still have to leave in little over a week.

But they didn’t speak of that. They would enjoy the time they had together, pretend that there weren’t forces beyond their control that wanted to keep them apart. Pretend that they were normal people, even if they both knew that they weren’t.

Aelin had dinner brought up to her chambers. They ate as they lounged on her massive bed, passing a goblet of wine back and forth until they were sated. As soon as Aelin had finished clearing away the plates and placing them outside her door, Rowan was upon her, mouth slanted against hers, fingers tangled in her hair.

He heard Aelin moan (a sound he was sure he would never get tired of) when his tongue met hers, but a heartbeat later, her hands were on his chest as she pushed herself away slightly.

“As much as I enjoy this,” she said, lips already slightly swollen. “I do want a bath first,”

With that, she swept past him towards the bathingroom, pausing at the threshold and glancing at him over her shoulder, quirking a brow.

“Are you coming?”

Rowan didn’t need to be told twice. 

Flowering scents wafting towards him as Aelin dumped bath oils into the tub, hot water steaming and filling the tiny chamber. He watched her intently as she shrugged off her silky robe, dropping in carelessly to the ground and leaving her bare. She smirked at him, knowing exactly what kind of reaction she was eliciting before she stepped into the bath and sunk down into the hot waters.

“Are you just going to stand there?” she drawled, stretching out her long legs.

Rowan didn’t break eye contact as he rid himself of his trousers, watching as Aelin scooted forward slightly to make room for him as he climbed in behind her. The water sloshed as he positioned himself, Aelin’s back against his chest as she rested against him, body relaxed as the warm water soothed her muscles.

She let out a content sigh as she rested the back of her head against his shoulder.

“I suppose we’ll never have to worry about the water getting cold with you here,” Rowan murmured against the shell of her ear.

“One of my many wonderful attributes,”

She snatched one of the hundreds of little glass vials that were scattered around the lip of the tub, dumping a generous amount of what smelled like jasmine soap into her hands before she began to wash herself. She was lathering up her toned arms when Rowan caught her wrists.

She looked up at him questioningly. 

“Allow me,” Rowan offered, grabbing the vial she had put down and spilling a generous amount into his palm.

There was no protests from Aelin as he began to lather the sweet smelling soaps across her body. She sighed in pleasure, eyes fluttering shut as he took his time. His hands skimmed up and down her sides, hearing her breath hitch when his fingers would hit the underside of her breasts before immediately darting back down her ribs. He rubbed the muscles in her shoulders, easing away any lingering tension, hearing her soft moans as he soothed away any knots of soreness. Her back arched as his hands trailed over her strong thighs in teasing strokes, moving higher and higher with each pass but not touching her where he knew she wanted him to. 

She squirmed against him as the pads of his fingers brushed high on the sensitive skin of the inside of her thighs. 

“You’re terrible,” Aelin groaned, turning her neck so she could look up at him. “I’ll never get anything done with your damned wandering hands,”

Rowan raised a brow. “You want me to stop?”

A beat of hesitation. “Well, I didn’t say  _ that _ ,”

He chuckled, capturing her lips as he finally touched her where she wanted him to. He heard her suck in a sharp breath as he set a leisurely pace, fingers pumping in and out slowly while his other hand found her breast. Rowan happily took his time, immensely pleased to see the effect his touch had on her. Her fingers had tangled into his hair, writhing against him while their lips locked.

Her hips bucked up as he began to pick up speed, her breaths coming out faster and faster between whimpers and moans and whispered curses. 

“Rowan,” she breathed, fingers tightening in his hair. 

His thumb pressed against the bundle of nerves at the apex of her thigh, and with that, she came undone, gasping out a moan as her legs trembled beneath the surface of the water. Her breathing soon began to even. Her eyes opened a sliver, still hazy from her pleasure.

“My productivity is going to go down so much if we keep going at this rate,” she mumbled.

Rowan chuckled, pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose. 

“It’s never felt like this before,” she continued. “I’ve never…”

“It’s part of accepting the bond,” Rowan explained, tracing lazy circles over her bare shoulders. “The… urge. It’s strong at first,”

“I can tell.” Aelin twisted in his arms, straddling his hips and bracing her hands on his shoulders. She grabbed a large, porcelain pitch from the edge of the tub. “Your turn. Lean forward,”

Rowan obliged, craning his neck forward while Aelin scooped water into the pitcher and dumped it over his head, soaking his hair. He didn’t bother protesting when she grabbed one of her hair tonics and dumped some in her hands. He knew he was going to smell as flowery as she did, but couldn’t find it within himself to care when her fingers dug into her hair and began massaging his scalp. He shut his eyes as she continued her ministrations, scrubbing deeply and thoroughly. He tilted his head back, hearing Aelin laugh as he did. 

“No better than a house cat,” she chastised, pressing a quick kiss to his chin.

Rowan smirked, still lounging. He supposed he could say why Aelin found it so pleasing, but he would have probably gotten bored without her with him. 

He felt her lips trail past his chin across his jaw, down the front of his throat. He was content to just relax and enjoy the sensation, until he felt the first scrape of her canines where his neck met his shoulder. His eyes flew open, hands clamping down on her waist.

“Aelin…” he growled in a low warning.

But those wickedly beautiful eyes simply flashed towards him as she smirked. Her sharp teeth pressed against his skin with more pressure, teasing, not quite making the final motion. He felt her hips lift to position herself over him, looking towards him for a sign to continue.

“Fireheart…” he whispered, which seemed to be enough encouragement for her. She slowly sunk down on him as her teeth pierced his skin, drawing just enough blood to dribble out of the corner of her mouth.

Rowan had never let a female bite him, had never felt comfortable with what it signified, but with Aelin, there was no question about it. It felt right.

Her lips unlatched from his shoulder, pressing her forehead against his as she began to move upon him. The water sloshed around their bodies, some spilling over the edge, not that either of them cared. 

Rowan would never get enough of this, of Aelin, in any capacity. Whether it be this intimacy, or simply sleeping beside her, talking through the night, he was absolutely addicted to the firebringer. 

And it would be his undoing.

…

Lysandra knew something was going on.

She just wasn’t entirely sure what.

The moment Aedion had returned to explain the absence of his cousin, the shifter’s suspicions grew. The excuse he had given didn’t make any sense for a few reasons. Lysandra knew Aelin well. She knew that ‘feminine issues’ was the princess’s favorite excuse to get out of something she didn’t want to do because most people were too embarrassed to question her further, she also knew that if Aelin really were having her cycle, she never let it stop her from training or shopping. And third, Lysandra knew that it definitely wasn’t feminine issues because her and Aelin’s cycles matched up.

So someone was lying. 

But she hadn’t pushed it yesterday.

This morning, however, she couldn’t help but notice some strange behavior.

Aelin had breezed into the dining hall for breakfast, donned in her training leathers, wearing a bright smile. She was cheerful, which wasn’t a bad thing, but Lysandra had never seen her like this. She was practically glowing with happiness, a bright flush to her cheeks, dimples flashing. 

But Aedion was acting strange.

He would glance towards his cousin with an unreadable expression on his face before looking back towards his breakfast. He would repeat the process over and over, tearing his gaze back and forth. He looked as though he knew something about Aelin that the rest of the guests at the table did not.

But he didn’t seem eager to share it.

Lysandra didn’t push her curiosity on either.

One way or another, she would find out soon enough.

…

Aelin offered to walk Manon back to her suites before she had to depart for training. The witch would be leaving later that afternoon to return to her budding kingdom. She insisted on skipping the grand, going off party that normally formal. She and her sisters would take off on their brooms until they reached the Witch Kingdom. 

“I must say, it will be rather boring here without you,” Aelin sighed as she strolled side by side with the queen. “I will miss seeing men pale when you walk towards them,”

Manon let out a bark of laughter. “I never grow tired of that sight either,”

Aelin knew that there was potential for friendship between them. It was there, faint, but present. The princess wouldn’t assume that the brutally-raised witch would be quick to befriend, but for now, she would settle for her trust. Besides, the world wasn’t ready for a friendship between the firebringer and Manon Blackbeak. The very proposition would probably have lesser men shaking with fear.

But it was an idea that brought a tiny smirk to Aelin’s lips. 

She brought Manon to her doors, the witch pausing with her hand on the knob and turning towards Aelin. She opened her mouth as if she had something to say, but shut it abruptly as her nostrils flared, scenting the air.

No, Aelin realized. Scenting  _ her. _

“I knew it,” Manon stated. “The Fae warrior is your mate,”

Aelin felt her heart skip a beat.

“I smelled him on you before, but it was faint,” the queen continued. “But now… I can tell you tried to hide his scent under perfume but it’s there, and it’s strong. What changed?”

Aelin’s mouth opened and closed uselessly a few times and she searched for the proper words.

“We didn’t find out until the night of the ball,” Aelin whispered. “I suppose it’s stronger now because we… accepted the bond,”

Manon nodded gravely. “It’s a potentially dangerous union. For a few reasons,”

“I know,” Aelin breathed. “That’s why we would appreciate your discretion. The only other person who knows is Aedion,”

“Is that why he returned to breakfast acting so strange?”

“I would wager, yes,”

Manon continued to study her with those ethereal, golden eyes, head cocked to the side. “And… this warrior, you care for him? Beyond the mating bond?”

“I love him. Bond or no,”

There was a grim sort on understanding on Manon’s pale face, nodding solemnly. “Well. I hope you two find a way to sort this out,”

Aelin’s eyes flickered to the ground. “Aye. I hope we do too,”

…

Once Aelin had parted ways with Manon, she headed towards the front gates where she knew Rowan would be waiting. Although she would like nothing more than to sequester themselves in her chambers, it would be smarter to keep up appearances. Let Terrasen think nothing had changed.

The instant Aelin laid eyes on Rowan leaning his shoulder casually against the wall, she felt herself brighten. She had seen him just this morning, but the giddiness that shot through her when she spotted that silver hair and those tattoos, knowing that he was hers, was a euphoric feeling.

Rowan’s own face softened when he spotted her. Others may not have noticed the subtle change, but it meant the world to Aelin.

She said a quick hello to the guards stationed on either side of the massive gates. They bowed slightly and smiled their greeting. Aelin didn’t miss the slight clench of Rowan’s fists at the sight of other men’s eyes on her. She could have laughed. Fae males of their ridiculous instincts. Though, she couldn’t say with confidence that she wouldn’t react similarly if other women had been ogling Rowan.

She planted herself a healthy, respectful distance from the Fae prince. A strange feeling, especially when she had woken up naked with her limbs tangled with his just this morning. But, no one would question it. 

Aelin quirked a brow. “Well? Are you ready?”

Amusement shone in his eyes at her casual tone. He straightened with a lazy grace and peered towards the tangle of the Oakwald. 

“I am if you are,”

Aelin flashed a feline grin.  _ Try to keep up. _

With that, she tore into the ancient, sprawling forest, knowing Rowan was right on her heels.

Aelin had always loved their morning runs. They were exhilarating and freeing, a way to push her body to the very limits, to fly as though she had wings of her own.

But, there was something she loved more about this run.

She would send teasing flashes of smiles Rowan’s way, slipping just out of reach when he could have reached out and touched her. The wove and twisted through trees, logs, and undergrowth, through the intricate maze nature had crafted over the centuries that always felt ancient and new at the same time.

Aelin loved this forest. She loved sharing it with Rowan too. 

She felt laughter bubble in her chest as she leapt over a fallen log and crashed through bushes still gnarled from winter’s fading grasp. 

Rowan’s hands reached out and grabbed her waist. (She let him catch her, not that she would tell him that and damage his pride). She released a peal of laughter as she was tugged back against his chest, feeling his lips pepper kisses down the side of her cheek to the curve of her neck. Aelin swiftly twisted in his arms and pressed her lips against his, feeling him smile. 

“I must say, I do slightly prefer this over what we normally do when we train,” Aelin murmured, arms snaking around the back of his neck and pressing herself closer.

“Are you sure? I could still make you do some drills. I have some in mi-”

She cut him off with a bite to his bottom lip that had him groaning. Hands gripped her hips tightly, the tips of his fingers dipping beneath the hem of her tunic and skimming over bare skin. She sighed in content as Rowan backed her up until she was pressed against the trunk of a tree.

His tongue darted out and traced her lips.

“Against a tree?” Aelin teased. “Really, I always thought you were more classy than that,”

A low growl before she was pulled away from the trunk and lowered gently to the forest flow, right over a soft bed of fresh grasses and sprouts, the first new growth of spring. Aelin’s fingers tangled into Rowan’s silver hair as his steady weight pressed against her.

Her fingers balled into Rowan’s tunic while his own went to the clasps at the front of her own tunic. 

Aelin couldn’t remember a time where she had been happier, with her mate, in the forest she grew up in, while he made love to her on top the first spring flowers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> new chapter! sorry it took so long, school and work have been keeping me pretty busy! But writing this is always my fav way to end the day.  
> We reached 13k hits and we're SO CLOSE to 1000 kudos, which is just INSANE! I cant believe how far this story has come, I never would have imagined it! Ik I say this like every chapter, but thank you guys so much for the amazing support! Every review makes my day and I read them like 20 times each.  
> Anyway, let me know what yall think! we're almost to the end of pt 2 of the story and will be moving on to pt 3 soon!


	36. Chapter 36

The next few days followed the same pattern. They would wake, Rowan would sacrifice Aelin for about an hour while she had breakfast with her court and her guests before she would meet him for their training. At this point, it was less of training as it was lounging around the Oakwald, enjoying the bits of privacy it offered away from court. Then, Aelin would slip away for dinner before returning to her chambers where they would spend the night together.

Aelin had woken him that morning by trailing tiny, teasing kisses down the center of his chest, down his abdomen, lower, until his hand was bunched in her hair and he was coming undone under her tongue.

They spent their afternoon in the Oakwald. Rowan had been content just to watch Aelin as she sprawled on the fresh, green grass, head resting in his lap. He found he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her, from her bright eyes and golden skin, as she twisted the flowers that grew around them into tiny crowns, leaving them on the edge of the clearing for the Little Folk. 

Gods, was he lucky to have this time with her, to be able to witness the Heir of Fire so relaxed and carefree. If it were up to him, he would’ve had that afternoon last an eternity.

But Rowan didn’t hold the power to stop time, and the sun began to set, meaning they had to return to the fortress for Aelin to dine with the nobility.

Rowan lounged on Aelin’s massive bed while she rushed around to get ready. She was running late and blamed him, though it was an effort on both of their parts. They were making good time before Rowan got distracted by Aelin’s bare skin after she stepped from the bath and ended up lifting her up on the counter and making love to her.

“Damn you, Rowan,” Aelin fumed, dragging a brush through her hair while she peered at herself in the mirror.

“I didn’t hear any complaints from you before,”

Her head whipped around, narrowing those stunning eyes sharply before she focused back on the task at hand. Rowan watched her reflection in the mirror as her gaze dipped down towards her neck and her eyes grew impossibly wide.

“Rowan!” she cried in indignation, pointing towards the tiny love bite he had left on her sensitive skin. “Are you kidding me?”

Rowan simply smirked, an expression which only grew when Aelin threw her head back and groaned with a filthy curse. She immediately snatched up some cosmetics and began attempting to cover the tiny mark.

“Grab me some earrings, will you?” Aelin asked.

Rowan frowned, glancing over at her overflowing jewelry box. He didn’t even know where to start, but he knew saying that would only piss her off, especially since he was already on thin ice in her eyes.

Rowan went over to the box, eyeing it warily. “What… kind?”

Aelin sighed in exasperation. “Just make sure they match!”

Fine. He could do that, at least.

Rowan began the tedious process of rummaging through the jewels, gold, and silver she owned. It was amazing she had so much, but knowing Aelin, she probably wore all of them. Rowan plucked out a couple pairs, trying to find the most simple ones he could so Aelin wouldn't complain that they didn’t go with her gown. 

Rowan held a pair of simple, diamond studs in his palm, ready to give him to the frantic female behind him, when his eyes caught on something else. Nestled in the back corner of the box, nearly unnoticeable, was a teal pendant. He didn’t know what possessed him, but he reached out and grabbed it, turning the cool metal over in his hands as he examined the necklace.

It was beautiful. A delicate silver chain that held the dramatic charm, decorated with the stag of Terrasen crowned in flame. The back was etched with strange symbols, markings he had never before seen. There was something about it… something Rowan couldn’t quite put his finger on-

“That was my mother’s,”

Rowan turned, finding Aelin standing behind him, face set solemnly with a glimmer of sadness in her eyes. He hadn’t even heard her wander over.

“It was also my father’s, and my uncle’s,” she continued, strolling over until she stood at his side, gaze glued on the pendant in his palm. “And all my ancestors before that. The Amulet of Orynth has been passed down through my family since Brannon himself,”

So, it wasn’t just some trinket. It was an ancient heirloom of her house, a proud reminder of the mighty blood that pumped through her veins. And yet, it was shoved in the back of her jewelry box.

“Why do you not wear it?” Rowan asked.

Aelin sighed and lowered herself onto the corner of her bed, Rowan following suit, watching her expressions closely. She took the amulet from his hands, skimming her thumb over the silver stag on the front.

“My mother told me that the Amulet of Orynth brought good luck and protection to all that wore it,” the princess began. “My father gave it to her when she went to Wendlyn before they had me, and she wore it since. But, on my eighteenth birthday, my mother gave it to me,”

Rowan’s heart throbbed as he watched her swallow thickly, seeing her struggle to hold back the tears threatening to well as she spoke of those she loved and lost.

“I wore it for a few weeks every day,” Aelin continued. “And then, my parents left on their trip to Adarlan and…”

Rowan knew. He took her hand and gave it a comforting squeeze, Aelin shooting him a tiny, thankful grin.

“After that, all I couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps they had this little bit of protection, then things would have ended differently,” she admitted. “I haven’t had the stomach to wear it since then. It just… doesn’t feel right. It makes my skin crawl,”

Rowan pressed a kiss to her temple, Aelin leaning her weight against his side. He slung his arm over her shoulder, holding her close.

“I’ll wear it again some day,” she vowed quietly. “When I feel as though I’ve grown into it. Perhaps after my coronation,”

“I think that would make your parents happy,”

Aelin turned to him, leaning forward and pressing her lips to his softly.

“I love you,”

Rowan would never tire of hearing her say that.

“I love you too, Fireheart,” he murmured, holding out the earrings he had selected. “Now, I think you’re  _ very  _ late,”

Aelin snorted softly, snatching the tiny studs and sliding them into place. “This is your fault!”

Rowan watched as she stood and made her way towards the door. “I’ll make it up to your later tonight,”

There was a mischievous glimmer in her eyes. “I expect nothing less,”

…

That following week was a dream. Every day, Rowan somehow made her happier. They spent nearly every second together, selfishly stealing what little time they had left together. 

They escaped every morning together into the Oakwald, hidden away from the population of Orynth. They could pretend that they were in their own world, forget who they were for a few hours. While they were there, they had no titles or allegiances to anyone but one another. When the sun began to set, they were forced to return to Orynth and responsibilities.

There were only brief moments where they weren’t together. Dinners, where Aelin was expected to dine with her court and her guests that Rowan tried to avoid, and then breakfast. Besides those few hours, they were joined at the hip. They had taken to Aelin’s chambers since she had insisted that she liked having her clothes and beauty products so close and Rowan wasn’t one to complain.

Aelin was sure that they had made love on every single available surface in her chambers. The wall (multiple times, actually), the desk, her floor when they couldn’t make it to her bed. She wasn’t kidding when she said her productivity had gone down. Her uncle had given her letters to draft days ago that she still hadn’t started, much to his ever-growing irk. 

But, the dream was fading, slipping through Aelin’s fingers even as she struggled to hold tight to the seconds that were ticking away. 

All throughout the day, Aelin was able to ignore the fact that Rowan would have to leave, but during the nights, she wasn’t able to stop her mind from wandering. She would be lying awake, wrapped in Rowan’s arms, listening to his steady breath. 

She had thought of any and every situation, trying to think of some way to stop him from leaving. She didn’t know if her heart could survive it, not after everything. Aelin wondered if she could bargain with her aunt, but she was sure her parents would turn over in their graves if she gave that idea any more thought, not to mention Aedion may actually throttle her if he caught wind of that intention.

If she tried to steal him away, it would be cause for war. What image would she make for herself if she dragged her people into a bloody, destructive war over a male? There would be outrage, rebellion, perhaps. She would lead Terrasen to ruin, tarnish her parents’ legacy. Not to mention the fact that she would be forced to fight against the male she loved, and Rowan wouldn’t ever put her at risk like that. 

She couldn’t ask herself to put his life on the line and gamble to see if rejecting an order made by a blood oath would or would not kill him.

Aelin hated herself for thinking of running off together, knowing how well that ended last time. The man she loved dead, leaving her broken and hurting. She wondered what god was looking down at her, reveling in her misfortune, keeping her from being with the male she loved time and time again. Was it a test? A trial of some sort? 

And even though Aelin willed time to go slower, the last day before Rowan departed still dawned. He would leave before noon the next day. 

They were quieter this day, less teeth and tongue, more lounging and quiet conversations. They laid on soft, fresh grass, basking in the sun and breathing in the scent of new flowers and soil. Aelin laid on his chest while he held her, brushing his hands up and down her arms comfortingly.

Aelin hardly spoke on the trip back to Orynth, and said even less during dinner. The others didn’t comment, but she saw Aedion sending her pitying glances every once in a while. If she hadn’t been feeling so miserable, she would have clawed his face off for it.

When the plates had been cleared away, she bid her court and guests goodnight and meandered back to her room. She walked as though she were in a trance, thinking of saying goodbye when she woke. She had been bracing herself all day.

Rowan was in her room when she returned, sitting on the edge of the bed. He stood once he saw her, trying his best to muster up a smile that lacked the true joy that it normally held. At least she knew that his inevitable parting was taking a toll on him as well. He placed a chaste kiss on her lips.

“How was dinner?” he asked. It was strange to hear him try and make small talk at this time. 

“It was fine,” Aelin sighed, brushing past him to take off her jewels and accessories from this evening. She slipped off her earrings and rings and bracelets, leaving on the pendant that Rowan had gifted her on Yulemas.

She couldn’t dredge up any words to perhaps make the situation better, lighter. Even though there was a fire burning in her hearth, she still felt inexplicably cold. She wandered through the room, slipping off her shoes and yanking off her belt, feeling Rowan’s eyes on her the whole time, watching, but not commenting on her strange behavior. 

Aelin loosened the laces of her evening gown before planting herself before her window, brows furrowed and lips drawn into a taut line. She wrapped her arms tightly around her body, fingers balled into fists, unable to make herself turn around and look at the male she loved, even as she heard him cross the room, feel his warmth as he stood beside her. 

“Aelin…” he whispered.

“Hmm?”

“Fireheart, look at me,”

Aelin dragged her gaze away from the lush greenery of her homeland towards Rowan, at the sad gleam in his eyes as he reached out and cupped her cheek. She found herself leaning into his touch, the hands she had grown familiar with. 

“Tell me what’s on your mind,” he pleaded.

Aelin’s eyes screwed shut, covering Rowan’s hand with her own, sucking down a bracing breath.

“I don’t know what to do, Rowan,” she rasped, feeling hot tears well in her eyes. “I- I don’t think I can do this. There has to be another way. There  _ has  _ to,”

There was a pained smile on his lips. “If there was, we would have thought of it by now. There’s… nothing to do,”

“No. No, I don’t accept that, Rowan,” she cried, feeling the burning tears drip down her flushed cheeks. “There must be a law or  _ something.  _ Surely a mating bond would trump a blood oath. We just need to say something-”

“No. Absolutely not,”

“ _ Why? _ ”

“If Maeve learns of the bond she will use it against you,” Rowan said firmly, eyes intent as they looked into hers. “I don’t know what she wants from you, but I know it’s not good. She would have no objections hurting you to get what she wants,”

“Let her try. I don’t care,”

“Well, I do!” Rowan snapped, voice more forceful than Aelin had been expecting. She blinked at the fear she saw in his eyes, a sight she had never seen before. He sighed, lowering his voice before continuing. “Telling the world of our bond is a risk… and I won’t risk you, Aelin. I won’t,”

She could have sworn her heart cleaved in two when she heard his voice break at the end of his declaration. Aelin let out a gasping sob, knowing that Rowan was right, but hating how it made her feel. She didn’t protest as he tugged her against his chest and held her tightly. Her fingers dug into his back, feeling the steady strength she had gotten so used to, hoping that perhaps a bit of it would seep into her to allow her to get through their parting.

“I’m not ready to say goodbye,” Aelin rasped into his tunic. “I can’t do it,”

Rowan pulled back far enough to look her in the eyes, thumb brushing away the tears that fell freely down her face. 

“Yes you can,” he whispered, fingers stroking her hair. “You’re the strongest person I know, Aelin. It will hurt, and you will hate it and maybe hate me, but you can do it,”

Aelin sniffed, tracing her fingertips across the planes of his face, feeling the familiar dips and rises. “I’ll hate the situation, but not you, Rowan. Never you,” 

Rowan turned his face and kissed her palm.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” Aelin admitted. “If no one knows of the bond… well, then I’ll be married.”

Rowan tensed slightly at the thought before she felt him relax, muscles loosening and jaw unclenching. Aelin was sure it was a difficult reality for him to accept. It was hard for her and she had been aware of it her entire life. But Rowan, with his territorial nonsense… she was surprised by how well he was taking it, to be aware that she would end up bound to another man sometime in the near future. 

“I’ll still love you, Aelin,” he declared, looking at her in a way no man had ever looked at her  before. “I’ll love you if you get married or if you don’t. I’ll love you whether you have no children or three. I’ll love you whether or not you fall in love again. I’ll love you whether you Settle or age. I’ll love you until I eventually fade, and I’ll love you as I wait in the Afterworld until I see you again. Because no matter what, whether in this life or the next, we will find one another again,”

The tears wouldn’t stop as his words settled in on her. She had been blessed with this time with him, no matter how short. She would cherish what time she was gifted until the day the darkness claimed her.

“I love you, Rowan. So much,” 

“I know. I love you too, Fireheart,” he said softly, resting his forehead against hers. “More than anything,”

Aelin’s hand slipped to the back of his head, pulling him down to crash her lips against hers. He swept her into his arms, needing to be close. Their last night together, perhaps for the rest of their lives. They needed this, this connection, one last time.

Rowan finished unlacing her gown, backing her towards the bed until the back of her knees hit the edge. She shrugged out of her gown, allowing it to pool at her feet before pulling at the hem of Rowan’s tunic before he pulled it away. Her hands greedily ran over his hot, bare skin while his calloused ones did the same. 

They didn’t waste the time they didn’t have. Rowan laid Aelin down on the bed, moving up the mattress until her head was rested comfortably against the pillows, hair splayed out below her. Rowan’s body hovered over hers, reverently sliding her slip down her torso, leaving her bare below him. 

Aelin could hardly stand to not be touching him in some way, her lips, her hands, her legs wrapping around his waist while he worked himself out of his trousers. Her fingers dug into his flesh as she felt him line up with her entrance. Her breath hitched as he slowly pushed into her, as they connected fully. Rowan didn’t move right away, breathing ragged as they adjusted to the feeling of one another, foreheads pressed against one another’s. 

Aelin’s eyes cracked open, meeting Rowan’s which were hazy with lust and love. 

She pressed her lips to the hollow of his throat once, twice. “I love you, Rowan,”

“I love you, Aelin,”

They took their time, moving slow, making the moment stretch out for as long as they could. The night was filled with soft gasp and whispers of adoration, tender kisses and languid strokes. They reached their peaks simultaneously with shuddering gasps and a deep kiss before they collapsed into one another, arms and legs tangled together, sweat glazed bodies pressed against one another. 

Aelin settled against Rowan’s body as he pressed a string of kisses against her bare shoulder. 

Aelin found it a small mercy that sleep found her easily that night. 

…

There was a heavy hint of rain in the air that following morning. Although the skies had yet to unleash themselves, Aelin could scent the thick perfume of an oncoming storm. It was fitting, she supposed, feeling the wicked winds pulling at her skirts and her hair as she stood under a dark gray sky.

As hard as she attempted to contort of face into something pleasant, it was set grimly. At least she wasn’t sobbing uncontrollably. 

She was dressed in her finery, a thick, dark green gown and a silver circlet, standing beside her court donned in similar fashion, congregated outside the gates of Orynth to bid farewell to Rowan Whitethorn.

They had said their own private farewells early that morning, kissing away tears and whispering words of devotion. 

“I love you, Aelin,” Rowan had murmured, brushing messy hair from Aelin’s face as he cradled it that morning. “Never forget that. Never doubt it,”

His final declaration had rung through her ears the rest of her morning. He had shifted and left a good while before her ladies arrived to prepare her for the day. She was thankful she had the time to brace herself, to smother her sniffling and dry her tears, hoping her eyes weren’t puffy by the time they arrived.

If her ladies noted her solemn disposition, they didn’t comment on it.

And now there she stood, watching as Rowan strapped supplies onto his horse, straightening his cloak and adjusting his vambraces. He wouldn’t meet her eye, and part of her was glad that he didn’t. She didn’t know if she would be able to hold herself together. 

Aelin bit down on her bottom lip as Rowan came before the royal family and dipped into a respectful bow. 

Orlon nodded. “We thank you, Prince Whitethorn, for all your help with training my niece,”

“It was an honor, your majesty,” Rowan said. “I thank you for welcoming me to your kingdom,”

Aelin didn’t dare breathe as Rowan turned his gaze her direction, standing before her and bowing.

“You were an apt student, princess,” Rowan said evenly. “I know you will continue to hone your skills,”

Aelin lowered herself in a curtsy, hearing her heart hammering in her ears. “Thank you, prince, for sharing your expertise with me,”

It was so strange to speak in such stiff, formal words, as if they hadn’t shared every dark part of their souls with one another, as if they didn’t know about that bond that linked them eternally, as if they were just acquaintances. 

Rowan straightened, tearing his eyes away before stalking towards his horse. Perhaps most people wouldn’t notice a difference in his gait, but Aelin could tell it was stiffer than normal, as if every step pained him as it pained her. 

Aelin swallowed thickly as Rowan mounted his steed. She felt Aedion grab her hand and squeeze it comfortingly as her Fae prince took the reins in his hand and steered the horse towards the path that cut through the Oakwald.

There was a tightness in her chest as the horse began to slowly trot into the shadow of the forest. Her eyes were glued between his shoulders, nearly unblinking, as he moved further and further away. She could practically feel that bond stretching as he rode deeper into the Oakwald. She watched him the whole time, knowing he wouldn’t look back, but waited until the gloom swallowed him whole.

Aelin squeezed her eyes shut, praying to whatever god was listening that she would keep it together. She took a few deep breaths before slipping her hand from Aedion’s, taking her heavy skirts into her hands and turning away from her court and breezing away.

“Excuse me,” Aelin said weakly, not bothering to wait to be properly excused before slipping away.

She wasn’t thinking as she snuck out of view of her court and guards until she was beneath the canopy of the Oakwald. Before she knew it, her skirts were bunched up and she was sprinting through gnarled and twisted trees, sight blurred slightly by the tears welling in her eyes.

She heard thunder rumbling threateningly in the distance as she leapt over fallen logs and undergrowth. 

Aelin moved swifter than she ever remembered moving, feet working faster than her head. She knew her dress was getting torn and dirty, her slippers would be damaged beyond compare, but she couldn’t find it within herself to give a damn. 

Branches whipped at her exposed flesh, snagging and tearing the bodice of her gown, but she blocked that all out. 

Aelin burst through the treeline into the open, skidding to a stop right before a bluff that gave her view of the long, twisting road that led from Orynth to the harbor. Her breathing was labored as she scanned the winding path, finding its solitary traveler. She would recognize the gleam of his silver hair even from the massive distance. 

Aelin watched as his horse trotted along the path, kicking up small clouds of dirt as they traveled. 

Finally, in the privacy that the Oakwald provided, she allowed the first of the fresh tears to fall. 

The tears were silent as they dampened her cheeks, allowing the wind to whip her hair free of its pins. 

If Rowan could sense that she was there, he didn’t show it. Perhaps it was better that way. She didn’t know if she would be able to let him go at this point.

She didn’t know how long she stood there, watching as his figure grew smaller and smaller. She felt the first drops of icy rain pelt against her skin as she waited, watching Rowan travel further away until even her keen Fae eyes failed her.

And he was gone.

He was truly gone.

She didn’t know if she was shivering because of the rain or the sorrow. 

Aelin heard the rustle of branches behind her, whipping around to see large eyes and spindly fingers in the gloom of the undergrowth. The Little Folk watching over her, as they always had. And they had left her a gift. ****  
** **

Two rings, one large, the other smaller, whittled of dark oak resting against a large stone, waiting for her. Aelin didn’t need to be a scholar to figure out who the other was for, letting out a tiny, bitter laugh as she wiped under her eyes, not knowing if the dampness was tears or rain.

She shook her head at the Little Folk, clutching the pendant that hung around her neck.

Her voice was broken as she spoke the damning words, feeling her heart twist in her chest. It was probably the most painful thing she had ever experienced.

“He’s not coming back,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> … and there's the end of part two.  
> I KNOW that I just gave yall some serious angst, but I wanted to take a moment to thank you all for the support. over 1000 kudos and 14000 views! wow! I'm seriously blown away and it makes me a lil emotional. so, THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH.   
> in my doc, im getting to the nitty gritty of this story, which unfortunately means im going to finish it eventually. however, I do have some ideas bouncing around for some other rowaelin AUs. as soon as I finish this, i'll probably start another because idk what to do with myself if im not writing.  
> so, what would yall rather see: a kinda gritty crime/mystery modern AU, or a modern royalty AU? I have some ideas bouncing around for both.  
> lmk what yall think!!!


	37. Chapter 37

**Part III**

****

Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, Heir of Fire, future queen of Terrasen, hadn’t left her chambers in three days.

Hadn’t worn anything other than a nightgown, hadn’t brushed her hair, could barely eat. 

She feigned illness, which led to healers being sent to her rooms to try and deduce what was wrong with her. Aelin knew they wouldn’t. She wasn’t sick, not in the conventional way, but she felt no less terrible.

Everything felt like a momentous effort. Eating, getting up to go to the bathing rooms, changing her nightgowns. She would sit in her bath for hours, not bothering to warm the water even when it became frigid. She had felt cold for the past few days. Her bed empty, her heart empty. She felt as though she were living some kind of half-existence.

Aelin knew that if Rowan could see her now, he would scold her. She could practically hear him now, snarling to stop being so miserable and go out and live her life. She was sure her friends were worried, her family. The only person with any inkling as to her sudden condition would be Aedion, and she trusted him enough to not tell anyone what he had learned.

Her heart was with a Fae prince, traveling across the sea to another continent, to the queen who kept them apart.

She would wake up in the middle of the night, reaching for a warm body that wasn’t there, and wouldn’t ever be again. Every time that realization hit her, she would curl in on herself and shed a few tears.

Gods, if this is what being separated from a mate felt like, Aelin couldn’t fathom what losing one was like. She could understand Rowan’s protectiveness, how wary he was of Maeve. He had already suffered the loss of one mate. She didn’t know if anyone could survive the loss of two.

Her room was dismal and dark. She couldn’t be bothered to light fire or burn a candle. 

People came to her rooms in the mornings and evenings, to deliver meals that Aelin could only make herself nibble at. She had grown used to the tiny routine.

Which was why she hadn’t expected anyone that afternoon.

Aelin awoke to the sound of her curtains being thrown back, allowing in the bright spring sun that she would normally love to be under, but hadn’t even bothered looking outside in the past three days. 

Aelin groaned, rubbing irritably at her eyes, sitting up and finding Lysandra standing at the foot of her bed. The shifter hadn’t come through the front door. She had probably shifted into some bird of sorts and landed on her balcony. She hadn’t even bothered closing the glass door. Aelin could smell the fresh spring flowers wafting on the breeze. It seemed to be a beautiful day outside. 

Lysandra’s hands planted themselves firmly on her hips.

“What is wrong with you?”

Aelin blinked slowly at her friend, hoping to find a bit of sharp humor on the tip of her tongue, to banter with her as she normally did, but the idea of being witty was too exhausting. The princess sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“I don’t feel well,”

Lysandra scoffed bitterly. “Maybe you don’t, but I know you, Aelin Galathynius. There’s something more than that,”

Aelin didn’t know what to say, staring silently into her friend’s beseeching gaze.

“Aedion knows something I don’t,” Lysandra continued shaped brows bunching together. “But he won’t tell me. And  _ you  _ won’t tell me either. Gods, Aelin, you used to tell me everything! And now…” her voice broke with emotion. “I don’t know how to help you. I don’t know what to do to make you feel better,”

Aelin saw Lysandra’s eyes glimmer with unshed tears, devastation and frustration lighting across her stunning features. Guilt flushed through the princess as she saw what her silence was doing to her friend. She should have thought about how it would make Lysandra feel. Gods, was she being a selfish, stupid, idiot.

Aelin forced herself to sit up, chewing on her bottom lip as she tried to formulate the best way to explain everything to her friend. She breathed down a deep, steadying breath, brushing messy hair from her face before patting the spot beside her on the bed.

Lysandra wordlessly lowered herself beside the princess, concerned emerald eyes studying her closely. Aelin couldn’t say anything for a few moments, eyes locked on the skirts of her matronly nightgown until Lysandra grabbed one of her hands and gave it a comforting squeeze.

Aelin was thankful for the tiny strength that motion bestowed upon her.

“I’m sorry for keeping things from you, Lys,” Aelin rasped. “Things just got… complicated,”

“I can always help with complicated,” Lysandra smiled.

“I know… but everything grew past complicated. I  _ wish  _ things were just complicated,”

Lysandra didn’t say anything, watching Aelin and waiting for her to continue. 

“I…” the princess began weakly, feeling those damned tears burning in her eyes again. “I fell in love. More than that. I found my  _ mate. _ ” Aelin met Lysandra’s eyes before saying the final words that would explain everything. “Rowan Whitethorn is my mate,”

Her friend’s jaw dropped, blinking rapidly as the information sunk in. Aelin could practically see the pieces falling into place in her mind, connecting every dot that she hadn’t even known needed connecting. 

“Oh gods,” Lysandra gasped.

Aelin nodded at the expression on her face. Horror, heartbreak, fear. “He’s my mate and bound to a wicked queen. We cannot speak of our bond, so we pretend it doesn’t exist and… and he’s gone now. And I don’t think I’ll ever see him again,”

And although Aelin had been aware of that fact, saying it aloud was the final strike that cleaved her heart in two. She choked out a pathetic sob, hiding her face in her hands while Lysandra pulled her close, allowing the princess to cry on her shoulder. 

Aelin didn’t know how long she sat there with Lysandra, purging herself of her bitter, awful emotions. She hoped Lysandra knew how thankful she was for her, for her love and support to matter what. 

Aelin eventually fell asleep, half-aware of Lysandra laying her down and draping a thick blanket over her body, content that no dreams plagued her.

…

Two more days passed.

Aedion and Lysandra visited her more often, urging her to eat more than she had been, the shifter brushing her unruly golden hair. They didn’t tell her to get over it, didn’t try to act as though everything was fine. For that, Aelin was thankful. But the way they would look at her as if she would break at any moment… perhaps a bit less thankful. 

Her cousin and friend were careful to not mention the cause for her heartache, as if she could forget him. All Aelin could think about was Rowan. She hoped his travels were safe, hoped he wasn’t feeling as miserable as she was.

It was late morning. At least, that was what Aelin could assume from the time that had passed since she had forced a bit of breakfast down her throat. She was curled up on her side, back to the door, absentmindedly stroking the white scar that crossed her palm. 

There was a tentative knock. Two voices, Aedion and Lysandra, voices muffled through the thick wood.

“Come in,” Aelin called, voice raw from disuse. 

The door creaked open, the pair slipping into her too-dark room.

Although Aelin didn’t look towards them, she could scent their nervousness, could hear Lysandra shifting her weight from foot to foot. There was clearly something they needed to say, something important enough that they were wary to say it right away. She couldn’t imagine what could possibly be worse than what she was feeling now.

Aedion cleared his throat. “Aelin…”

He sounded worried, as if whatever he was about to say would set her off. He never acted like this.

Aelin ground her jaw, back still to them. “Just say it,”

A small step forward before Lysandra began speaking in a weak voice, “I… I was listening in on one of the meetings between your uncle and the king of Adarlan and we learned something,”

Aelin’s breath caught in her throat, knowing in her gut what it was, but needing to hear it. “Just… just  _ say it, _ ”

She heard Aedion swallow hard.

“They’ve made a decision. It’s official. You’re to marry Dorian Havilliard,”

Aelin didn’t know how she expected herself to react. Whether she would cry or scream or rage… but there wasn’t any of that. Only a grim sense of understanding. She had known a marriage was inevitable, but so soon after Rowan left… it was fitting, she supposed, after the week she was having. 

Aelin pressed her lips together. “When will the announcement be made?”

“As soon as you’re feeling… better, I would suppose,” Lysandra whispered.

Right. Of course.

For a few moments, Aelin lay frozen. She didn’t speak, didn’t breathe, didn’t blink. But, ever so slowly, her body uncurled, sitting up, brushing her hair from her face and tucking it behind her ears. She rose to her feet, turning slowly towards Aedion and Lysandra, seeing their wary eyes, waiting for her to react, to burn and destroy.

But there was no rage sizzling in her veins.

Aelin held herself high, spine straight, nose pointed ever so slightly in the air.

Even though her heart hurt, even though the male she loved was crossing the sea, she still had a duty to her kingdom. 

“Very well,” Aelin breathed. “You can tell Orlon that I’m feeling much better. I’ll be there for dinner,”

Aedion nodded, eyes following Aelin as she began to open her curtains, allowing the bright, spring sunlight to fill her room. Gods, she had let it become a mess. She grabbed discarded clothes off the ground, bunching them in her arms to be taken to the laundress before throwing a window to freshen up the stale air in her room.

She saw Aedion and Lysandra’s bunched brows as she moved in a whirlwind around her room, getting rid of the evidence of the past week. 

“Aelin,” Aedion spoke up just as the princess began rummaging through her wardrobe. She paused and looked towards her cousin. “We’re here for you,”

Aelin smiled wryly. “I know. I’ll see you two later I just… need some time,”

They nodded, slowly backing towards the door.

“We love you, Aelin,” Lysandra said, pausing just in the threshold, hand on the doorknob.

A surge of adoration went through the princess, thankful for their undying support. “I love you guys too,”

Aelin held their gazes for a few more moments until they ducked out of the room and shut the door softly behind them, leaving her alone once again.

The princess released a long breath, listening to the smothering silence that was pressing against her. Her fingers tightened around the bundle of clothes in her arms, which, in one blink, were reduced to nothing but ash, her candles and fire pulsing with her emotion.

It was as upset as she would let herself be.

…

Aelin’s ladies took extra care getting her ready the next day.

Her hair was twisted to perfection, not a single strand out of place, a silver tiara resting daintily on top of it. Kohl was smudged around her eyes, making their color more vivid. A bright plumb tint was swiped across her lips, extenuating their shape. 

She wore a beautifully made gown, perhaps one of the finest she had ever had the pleasure of donning. Thick and detailed, cut as though it was sewn on to her body. It was the deepest green, the bodice decorated in swirling, silver beading. Delicate emeralds swung from her lobes, catching the bright, morning light.

Aelin knew she looked beautiful, powerful.

She looked like a queen.

Aelin stood by her window, her sensitive Fae ears picking up on the sound of hundreds of voices murmuring amongst themselves in the courtyard, excitedly waiting for the announcement that would soon be made. Waiting for her, to be exact.

She clutched her pendant tightly in her hand, the metal growing warmer by the minute. Her roiling emotions were causing her control to slip on her magic. Not enough to be catastrophic, but enough that if anyone else touched the necklace, they would probably get a nasty burn.

A soft knock on her door.

Aelin turned, finding Aedion lingering in the doorway, dressed in all his finery, golden hair tied back on the nape of his neck. 

“It’s time,” he said.

Aelin pursed her lips and nodded stiffly, crossing the room and taking her cousin’s arm. He tried to muster what seemed to be an encouraging smile, but didn’t quite hit the mark.

It felt like a slow march towards the balcony that overlooked the grand courtyard. It was a walk to solidify her future and the future of Terrasen. Every step took her closer to her fate, to Dorian, her future husband.

_ Husband. _

The word felt strange. Dorian had been her friend for nearly her entire life, and although she had known in the back of her mind that there was a chance that they would be wed, the reality was a completely different feeling. Dorian would be her husband, bound for life. She would rule by his side, share his bed, and, one day, bear his children.

Gods, this would have been so much easier a week ago.

Perhaps if Rowan had left without sharing his feelings, if they hadn’t taken that final step, if they hadn’t discovered their bond, then this walk may have been easier. 

But, in her heart, Aelin knew she wouldn’t have traded her final week with Rowan for anything. As short as it was, it would be a time she would cherish until the day she died, whenever that would be. She was thankful that she knew what it felt like to love, to be loved, in that capacity. 

There was a small antechamber, separated from the massive balcony by red, velvet curtains. The room was filled with the royal families of both Terrasen and Adarlan. Orlon laid eyes on her first, smiling at his niece. Aedion led her before the king, slipping off to the side to give them some privacy.

“Aelin…” her uncle breathed. “You look lovely,”

“Thank you, uncle,” Aelin whispered, nodding her head respectfully.

There was a glimmer of happiness in his dark eyes that reminded her so much of her father. “Your parents would be so proud of you,”

Her heart gave a tiny throb. “I miss them,”

Orlon sighed and kissed the crown of her head. “I do too,”

From there, Aelin was passed around the room, murmuring hello’s to Darrow, curtsying before the King of Adarlan, kissing Georgina’s cheeks, before the only person left that she hadn’t greeted was Dorian himself.

He looked mighty princely. A well-fit black tunic, a golden wyvern stitched into the breast. A thick, red cape hung from his shoulders. His dark hair was as shiny and curly as ever, sapphire eyes lit in a smile. Even in the gloom of the antechamber, there was a beautiful sort of handsomeness about him.

Aelin came before Dorian, her future husband, just as their families stepped through the curtain into the bright, morning light to begin addressing the people of Terrasen, leaving them alone together. For the first time since they met, Aelin felt almost nervous standing before him.

“So…” Dorian said, pulling something out of his pocket. “I suppose I should give you this,”

Aelin’s eyes locked on the little velvet box as he opened it and revealed a stunning silver ring, displaying a phenomenally cut diamond. Her engagement ring.

“Well, what’s taking you so long?” Aelin teased, trying to work them back into their easy banter that she had loved so much.

Dorian gave a tiny laugh, freeing the ring and taking Aelin’s hand before slipping the jewel upon her finger. She didn’t pull away as his fingers slipped between her own and gave her hand a firm and comforting squeeze.

“I know…” he began slowly, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on the back of her hand. “That this isn’t perhaps what you had wanted, but-”

“I’m happy it’s you, Dorian,” Aelin cut him off, placing her hand on the side of his face to get him to look at her. “Truly. If I were to be married off to anyone, I had always hoped it would be you,” 

Not a lie. She had always thought that Dorian would be the best choice for her if she didn’t fall in love with anyone else. She did love him, perhaps not in the way people expected when it came to marriage, but love nonetheless. Aelin rolled up to her toes and pressed a chaste kiss against his jaw.

The small action seemed to cause a sense of relief to go through the young prince.

“Well, then I suppose I’m very lucky,” Dorian smiled, holding out an arm for her to take. “And you are too, to get such a good-looking husband,”

Aelin snorted. “Mala knows how I’m going to survive your ego,”

“I can give you some tips. I’ve had a lot of practice dealing with yours,”

And, despite herself, Aelin laughed. Truly laughed, the first time she had done so since Rowan had left. For a moment, she almost felt like her old self again.

“You ready?” Dorian asked, standing before the thick curtains.

Aelin smirked, squeezing his forearm once. “Always,”

With that, they pushed through the thick curtains into the golden sunlight, and were met by a deafening, thunderous cheer.

Aelin felt her practiced, charming, courtly smile slip onto her lips as she and Dorian made their way to the edge of the balcony, looking down over the people of Terrasen. Her people cried out happily when they saw her and Dorain, as they waved and greeted the masses. 

Aelin wondered what they saw when they looked at her and Dorian. She wondered if they saw a couple in love, or if they even cared about something as trivial as emotions. Perhaps they looked at them and saw a union of strength and power, saw the prosperity that their marriage would bring upon them. 

Whatever her people saw, at least they were happy. Smiling faces beamed up at her, families and children clapping at the sight of their princess and her future husband.

The light shining off of Aelin’s ring caught her eye, gaze moving away from the crowd to her hand for a fraction of a moment. It was truly a beautiful piece, artfully crafted, glimmering brightly in the morning glow. It was very much in her taste. She should have loved it.

But its weight just felt so wrong.

…

Although the journey wasn’t physically tolling, traveling back to Doranelle was one of the most difficult things Rowan Whitethorn had ever had to do.

With every step he took, he felt his heart trying to tug him back to Terrasen and the princess he had left behind.

It was better this way, he tried to tell himself. Aelin would be safe, from Maeve, from others who would fear their union. She had people in Terrasen who loved her, who would support her through this rocky time. It brought a small comfort to Rowan to know that he had not left her alone.

But that didn’t stop him from missing her.

He would wake every night, reaching across from him for Aelin, only to find himself alone. Somehow, it was an unpleasant surprise every time. 

Stepping on that ship to cross the sea felt like a damnation. 

He was back in the city of rivers far too soon for his liking. It was as beautiful as he remembered, cool, misty air and white stone. It felt as though he had been gone for much longer than a year. The ethereal city no longer quite felt like his home anymore, though it was the place he had grown up, where he had lived for centuries.

Perhaps one day it would feel like home again. Perhaps not.

He had forgotten how cold and quiet Maeve’s halls were. He had grown used to the steady stream of people that filled the halls of Orynth, from servants to courtiers. It created a warm and inviting atmosphere. But here… even his near-silent footfalls seemed to echo loudly along the high, stone ceilings. He used to not think twice about the desolate atmosphere.

Rowan didn’t see a single soul until he entered the towering doors that led to Maeve’s throne room.

His queen sat before him, flanked by the twin wolves. He could sense rather than see his other companions lingering around the edges of the airy room. 

Maeve lips seemed to curve in wicked amusement as he kneeled before her, head bowed in respect. She waited a few breaths, keeping him with his head bowed for longer than necessary, before she deigned to speak.

“Prince Whitethorn,” Maeve drawled, voice heavy with a kind of lazy grace she had perfected over the years. She never let anyone know she was too interested, but Rowan knew that this time, she was ravenous for knowledge from across the sea. “I’m glad to see you’ve returned unscathed, though I expected nothing less. Were your travels well?”

Rowan straightened, feeling himself slip back into the role that he had filled for centuries. A powerful, unfeeling commander, one of Maeve’s loyal warriors. It felt so wrong.

“Aye, your majesty,”

A spider’s smile found its way to Maeve’s pale face. “Well, that’s good to hear. Now, tell me of my niece. Did her training go well?”

He braced himself slightly, to speak of Aelin again when the wound was still so fresh. If he could, he would refuse to tell Maeve anything, but he could feel the blood oath burning through his veins.

He caught the dark eyes of the massive white wolf sprawled to Maeve’s right, ears perked up slightly. It would make sense that Fenrys would want to hear of Aelin after so long apart. They had become good friends. Well, more than that. Fenrys was just lucky that Rowan hadn’t yet begun to feel the bond with Aelin while he was sharing her bed. ****  
** **

“The princess has become a formidable warrior both with her magic and with steel,” Rowan began. “She rivals many of the warriors I have known for my years in skill and intellect. Her magic runs deep, the likes of which hasn’t been seen since Brannon,”

“Is that so?” Maeve asked, leaning forward in her throne, resting her chin in her hand. “And how is her temperament? Lady Remelle reported that she was…  _ feisty, _ ”

Rowan clenched his jaw. “Lady Remelle exaggerates. Aelin displayed perfect control in both her emotions and her powers,”

“Hm,” Maeve hummed, leaning back, fingers laced across her stomach. “Well, I trust your word for it. I do hope the princess will perhaps come and visit my kingdom soon. Fenrys tells me that the two of you became friends during your most recent stay,”

Rowan saw Fenrys’ lips twitch, begging to be drawn back in a snarl, but knowing better. The consequences for such an act wouldn’t be pretty. 

“Well, even if my niece does decide to make a visit, it surely won’t be for some time,” Maeve breathed, brushing her skirts free of any wrinkles. “With the recent developments over in Terrasen, I’m sure Aelin will be kept quite busy,”

Bitch.  _ Bitch.  _ Maeve knew damn well that Rowan hadn’t heard any news while he was traveling, could see the taunt on her face, telling him that she knew something he didn’t and she wouldn’t say until he asked.

Rowan swallowed hard, praying to whatever gods were listening that his self-control would hold. “I’m afraid news was scarce on the road. I wasn’t aware of any… developments,”

“Ah, I see,” Maeve said, as if she were surprised by the fact. “Well, it’s most wonderful news. Aelin Galathynius is engaged. She’ll be married to Dorian Havilliard by the autumn,”

For a heartbeat, Rowan’s entire world went quiet.

_ Engaged. _

She was already  _ engaged. _

The Fae prince quickly mastered himself, keeping his face cold and stoic as he addressed his queen. “That’s a smart match. An alliance between Terrasen and Adarlan will be most beneficial,”

Maeve’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if she were studying him. “Yes. I do wonder if I’ll be lucky enough to get an invitation to the wedding. I’m sure it’s going to be a grand affair,”

Rowan supposed it was Maeve’s attempt at humor. She never left Doranelle, wouldn’t even for such an important occasion. Good. He didn’t want her anywhere near Aelin.

“Well, prince,” Maeve continued. “I’m sure you’re weary from your journey. I’ll allow you some time to rest and get settled again. You’re dismissed,”

Rowan bowed briefly at the waist before stalked towards his rooms. He didn’t bother greeting any of his companions, not now. There would be plenty of time for that in the future. For now, he needed to be alone, to breathe, to master himself before he did something foolish. 

His body led the way to his rooms, his mind flying in a million different directions. He was thankful to come upon the familiar door to his chambers, instantly slipping inside and slamming the door behind him, the only display of his roiling emotions he would allow himself to make.  ****  
** **

Gods, some part of him knew that Aelin would be engaged eventually. He had heard queen Georgina speaking about it quite flippantly before he had left. He should be happy that Aelin was at least promised to a male that was her friend. He had seen with his own eyes how well they got along. Dorian was a good man, he would treat Aelin well. Perhaps they would even grow to love one another. 

He should be happy. Perhaps he would have if it hadn’t been so soon after his departure.

But he wasn’t.

Rowan was furious. Not at Aelin or Dorian, but of the situation he was in. He was furious at Maeve for her wicked contempt, he was furious at the gods for letting this happen, he was furious at himself for binding himself to Maeve in a moment of weakness.

Rowan’s hands curled into fists, a hard wall of air surrounding the room, before it shattered. A small, concentrated burst of power speared from him, shattering his desk, knocking over his wardrobe, sending books and parchment flying. He was thankful for the shield he had placed around the room to keep the sound contained as he let out a single, guttural, scream.

The destruction he had caused didn’t fix the problem at hand, but it at least stopped him from becoming violent. Part of him still wanted to tear the palace apart with his bare hands, to fight the blood oath and return to Aelin. He would slaughter anyone Maeve sent after him without a second thought.

But even if he could escape the blood oath, to survive disobeying Maeve, the offence he caused would mean she would hunt him and then Aelin for the rest of their lives.

It was all much more complicated now. Aelin was engaged. Even if he returned, if he freed himself, then what would he do? Stealing away a bride wouldn’t be good for relations between Terrasen and Adarlan, even if she was his mate. The laws of Doranelle would recognize that bond as superior to all, but in the mortal lands… ****  
** **

All Rowan could do now was pray, to hope for Aelin’s safety and happiness, and dream of the day, no matter how far away, he would see her again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's a new chapter for yall! super angsty, but I must warn you, it wont get better for a while.   
> I hope you all are enjoying the story still! I love love love writing it.  
> 14.5k hits and 1100 kudos! thank you all so so much!  
> let me know what you think of the chapter! love to hear from you :)


	38. Chapter 38

The following week was filled with congratulations and false grins. 

Aelin sat at Dorian’s side at nearly every meal and meeting, politely thanking lords and courtiers when they wished them well, blessing their union, and so on and so on… By the end of every night, Aelin’s cheeks were sore.

Try as she might, she couldn’t help her mind from roaming to Rowan. He was her first thought in the morning and last thought before going to sleep at night. Throughout the day, she was normally kept too busy to think of him, but there were moments when the there would be a slight lull when she would see flashes of green and silver, hear a phantom laugh that didn’t belong to anyone around her. Without meaning to, she would search for a bond that held her heart, tied to another an ocean away. But, then someone would call her attention and the dream would fade. 

Aelin didn’t know how much longer she would be able to take this. The wedding wouldn’t be held until the end of summer at least, which meant months of planning and nagging, not to mention the small engagement tour they would be holding. Traveling between the territories between Terrasen and Adarlan until they reached Rifthold, where the wedding would be held.

It would be hard to leave her home, her family and friends.

Her court would travel to Adarlan for the wedding, but the time between, they would remain in Orynth. 

At least she would have Dorian and Chaol. She would meet the captain’s new lady friend, would perhaps be able to enjoy the Glass Castle more than she did on her last, ill-fated trip, and just maybe, it would make her think less of Rowan. Her memories of the Fae prince were tied to her homelands. There was no place she could be that wouldn’t remind her of him.

And, before she knew it, it was time for Aelin to leave.

She was trying not to cry as she embraced Lysandra tightly, loathe to release the shifter. She could hear her friend crying softly. Aelin wasn’t entirely sure what for. Perhaps Lysandra was crying because Aelin would be leaving for months, the longest time they would be apart since they had met. Lysandra could also be crying for her, because she realized that the next time she saw Aelin, she would be wed to a man that wasn’t her mate. 

Aelin tried not to think of that either.

She kissed Elide’s cheeks, hugged Ren and her Uncle, before Aedion wrapped her in an embrace tight enough to break bones. She knew he dreaded that she would be taking this trip without her, thinking of Evalin and Rhoe. Aelin hadn’t stopped thinking of that as well.

She wished her mother was still alive, wished she could give her advice, let Aelin cry on her shoulder. Her mother had always given her sage consul. There was little she wouldn’t give to have her mother with her now. 

“Stop crying you big baby,” Aelin teased with more humor than she truly felt, feeling right on the verge of tears herself. “It’s only for a few months,”

Aedion pulled back far enough to look down at her, allowing Aelin to see his red-rimmed eyes that he rubbed at furiously. 

“I know,” he said, voice raw with emotion. He brushed his knuckles against the point of her chin before turning his eyes towards Chaol and Dorian, clasping forearms with both males. “If anything happens to her…”

“We know,” Dorian said, placing a comforting hand on her lower back. “I don’t think she’s gonna let anything happen to any of us. She’s very tough, you know,”

Aedion let out a short laugh. “Yeah, I know,”

He pressed one last kiss to the crown of her head before it was time for her to go.

Aelin prided herself at keeping a brave face as she smoothed her riding clothes, double-checking that she had her Fae blade strapped to her ankle, and mounted her horse. She smiled back at her family, trying to take it all in one last time. She wouldn’t ever come back the same.

Dorian pulled his horse up beside hers, flashing a grin and reaching out. “You ready?”

She was thankful for his unwavering kindness and support, for being there for her always. She was lucky, she supposed, that out of everyone, it would be Dorian that she would marry.

Aelin took his hand and gave it a firm squeeze. 

“I am,”

…

The droning of the waterfalls was a welcome sound, filling Rowan’s brain and leaving room for little else.

He found himself in a secluded little corner of Maeve’s palace.

Going back to the dark queen, retaking his role as commander, had been a strange transition. What was expected of him, who he was supposed to be. Rowan couldn’t smile and tease as frequently as he had back in Terrasen. He had slipped back into the icy, hard male he had been for the last centuries. 

He thought it would make Aelin sad to see him like this.

Not that he had to worry about her seeing him anytime soon, if ever.

He had gathered news about the princess from snippets of gossip he had heard around the city or between the soldiers, discussing Aelin’s engagement to Dorian. If the news he had heard was right, she would be heading on a small engagement tour soon before going to Rifthold. The wedding would be held on the cusp of fall. He wasn’t expecting an invitation, glad of it, anyway. He didn’t trust himself to behave if he was forced to watch Aelin give herself to another. 

_ She’ll be safe. She’ll be happy. _

It had become a mantra Rowan found himself repeating when he began doubting their decision, when the urge to flee Doranelle became almost unbearable. Going to Aelin now would do more harm than good. To everybody. 

Rowan stared blankly ahead, running his thumb over the thin, white scar that crossed over his palm, when he heard the scuff of a boot over stone. Intentionally done to alert him of another’s presence. Rowan didn’t bother to look at Fenrys as he sat down beside him.

“So,” the golden-haired male drawled. “Aelin Galathynius and Dorian Havilliard… looks like the rumors aren’t rumors anymore,”

Rowan nodded, eyes flickering down to his boots as they lapsed into silence for a few moments. 

“You met him, didn’t you?” Fenrys asked at length. “Before you left Terrasen?”

“Aye, I did,” 

“Is he a good man? Will he treat her right?”

Rowan swallowed thickly before responding, hoping his voice held more strength than he currently felt. “Yes. He will,”

There was understanding and acceptance on Fenrys’ face as he nodded slowly. “Good. I’m glad to hear that,”

Rowan glanced at his companion out of the corner of his eye, studying his reaction. He did, in fact, look relieved that the princess would be marrying a good man. There was no romantic longing on his face, nothing that told Rowan that he still wanted her as anything more than a friend.

“She missed you when you left,” Rowan said.

Fenrys shrugged. “Of course she did. I’m excellent company,”

Rowan snorted softly. He certainly matched Aelin in terms of humility. 

“In the mood for a bit of sparring?” Fenrys asked, quirking a brow. “Have to make sure you haven’t gone soft in the past year,”

Perhaps a decade ago, Rowan would have said no, would have snarled at Fenrys for bothering him until the younger male left. But now… maybe they had come to a bit more of an understanding. For once, Rowan could relate to Fenrys’ desire to be freed from the blood oath, of his dreams of far away kingdoms. Both of them now had one thing in common: they were torn away from a place they were happy.

“I won’t go easy on you, boyo,” Rowan cautioned.

Fenrys flashed a grin. “I would hope not,”

…

The quiet night air was punctuated by a rhythmic screech.

The cry came from no beast, bird, or person, but rather from a whetting stone gliding over glimmering, Fae steel as Aelin sharpened her blade by the fire’s glow.

The princess had tied back her hair, changed into a thick tunic and trousers. The fine make of her clothes and the glimmering jewel on her finger flashing in the fire light were the only signs of her true position. 

She was one of the last people awake, save for the guards lingering on the outskirts of their camp. She didn’t mind the solitude, in fact, enjoying that she had a few moments to relax before she had to be on the road again.

Aelin was sure her blade had been sharpened enough, but she found the steady movements relaxing. Besides, Rowan had given her this blade. She wanted to take proper care of it. 

There was a rustle of the canvas of a tent, short footfalls crunching over grass until they stop right before Aelin. 

“Must you do that now?”

Aelin’s eyes dragged up from the blade towards the figure beside her, finding Holland glaring. His hair was messy, lips contorted into a pout. She had probably interrupted his sleep with the noise.

Aelin ran the stone across the dagger again.

“The last time a member of the royal family of Terrasen traveled to Adarlan, they were slaughtered,” Aelin didn’t break eye contact with the young prince as she dragged the stone again, its cry piercing and mournful. “Anything can happen on the road,”

She watched as Holland paled and the prince swallowed hard. He looked at her nervously before swiftly turning heel and hustling back into his tent. She would give him credit for even coming up to her, considering she knew she still terrified him. 

Aelin smirked as Holland disappeared into his tent. If he wanted to torment her, she would thoroughly enjoy tormenting him back. And she could do it much better.

Someone sat down beside her.

“You know, I think having you around is going to make Holland a lot less annoying,” Dorian sighed.

Aelin snorted softly, sliding her dagger back into his sheathe. “Well, if he knows what’s good for him, he will,”

The princess sprawled back on the fresh, spring grass, looking up at the stars through the gaps in the treetops, basking in their beautiful, ethereal light. She felt Dorian lay down beside her, shoulder pressed against hers. He grabbed her hand, running his thumb over the glimmering diamond perched on her finger.

“Did you ever think it would happen?” Dorian whispered in the darkness. “That we would end up getting married?”

Aelin turned her head to look at him, his kind, sapphire eyes and curly dark hair. She had known him since he was a boy, had watched him grow into a fine, young man. Her friend for many years, soon to be her husband.

“It was always a possibility in my mind,” Aelin explained. “If I never fell in love, I always hoped it would be you,”

“Surely you’ve loved,”

Her heart clenched when she thought of Sam, of Rowan, the men who had held her heart. Dorian didn’t know of Sam, he didn’t know of Rowan besides his vague suspicions. Perhaps one day she would tell him all of it, but for now...

“I’ve loved,” Aelin rasped, eyes burning. “But… it didn’t work out,”

Dorian smiled sadly, giving her hand a firm squeeze. “I do want you to be happy, Aelin,”

“I know, and I want the same for you,” she said. “And we will be. I know we will,”

The prince kissed the back of her hand, more friendly than anything. Strange to think that they had yet to share a true kiss when they would soon be sharing a bed.

“You should get some sleep,” Dorian said.

“Aye,” Aelin breathed, rubbing at her eyes. It had been a long day of travel, her body was weary. They would be traveling most of the next day before they reached the first stop in their tour.

Dorian helped her off the grass, helping to brush dead leaves from her tunic and trousers, picking a stray twig from her hair. Aelin bid her future husband goodnight before ducking into her own tent, shrugging out of her day clothes, letting her hair loose, before laying herself on a soft pallet. She felt Rowan’s pendant pressed against her chest, above her heart.

She hoped he was alright back in Doranelle, though she knew he probably felt the same pain in his chest as she did in hers. 

Every night, Aelin thought about slipping away through the darkness. Packing a bag, taking a horse, and heading towards the sea. She thought about going to Doranelle and finding him, of being able to hold him in her arms, smell his pine and snow scent. 

But she wouldn’t. She was smarter than that.

Aelin wouldn’t bring herself into Maeve’s territory, not when her parents had tried so hard to keep them separated, not when Rowan feared her intent. They had sacrificed much to keep her safe. Aelin wouldn’t jeopardize that.

But it didn’t make her miss Rowan any less. 

…

Their party continued to travel, stopping first at territories of wealthy merchants or courtiers in Terrasen, and staying the night. Aelin would grin and charm as she normally did, sitting beside Dorian, holding his hand or brushing a hand down his arm. Tiny, planned movements to show that they were united, reminders of strength and power.

They had worked their way through Terrasen, now well into Adarlan and getting closer to the Glass Castle with every passing day. They were staying in a spice merchant’s estate, a beautiful, sprawling manor, the gardens bursting with bright flowers. It was lovely. 

Aelin would have loved to share it with Rowan.

Her bed was giant and her blankets warm and soft. She had a fire burning in the hearth, tucked under thick quilts. Aelin was still given her own room though she was promised to Dorian. They weren’t expected to share a bed until they were officially wed. Aelin was glad of this. She didn’t know if she could stomach sleeping beside a male that wasn’t Rowan so soon.

Sleep had been coming to her easy, worn from travel and politics. Her slumber had been mostly dreamless, but not this night.

_ Aelin stood in a cold, stone room. She could hear the rush of water from all around her, feel the humidity in the air. It was not a place she had ever been before, but she seemed to know it deep in her bones, telling her that it was wrong. _

_ “Fireheart,” _

_ She knew that voice, had hoped to hear it since he had left. _

_ Aelin turned around, finding Rowan standing there. He was as handsome as she remembered, from the lines of his tattoos to his cropped silver hair. There was that smile on his face that she loved so much, that made her heart flutter. _

_ She threw herself at her mate, burying her face into his shoulder and inhaling deeply. His scent, the feeling of his arms wrapped around her, was more than she ever could have asked for.  _

_ Aelin kissed him, fingers tangling into his hair, melting against him. Gods, she had missed him so much. There was so much she wanted to say, to tell him that she loved him over and over again until her voice was hoarse, she wanted to- _

_ “Prince Whitethorn,” _

_ She felt Rowan tense at the cold voice that echoed from the stone walls. It wasn’t a voice she had heard before, but she knew who it was without a doubt. _

_ Maeve. _

_ She stood across the room, held held eyes, lips twisted with malicious amusement.  _

_ “Please release my niece,” _

_ Rowan did as she was told, letting Aelin go, arms snapping to his side. _

_ “Good,” Maeve drawled. “Now take a few paces back,” _

_ Aelin hated watching the queen toy with him, to use the blood oath so flippantly because she knew it would enrage her. Aelin wanted to slaughter her, wanted to take her time while she did it.  _

_ Aelin locked eyes with Maeve, feeling her stomach drop at the gleam in her eyes.  _

_ “Rowan,” the queen began. “Take your knife and slit your throat,” _

_ Aelin barely had time to scream before he had done it. He hadn’t even hesitated. She had never known horror like this, had never felt such dread as she shot forward and caught him before he collapsed, gently bringing him down to the cool, stone floor. She could feel his warm blood soaking into her clothes, staining her skin. Oh gods, she never should have come she never should have- _

_ Aelin had to watch the light leave Rowan’s eyes. _

…

Aelin awoke with a violent gasp, sitting bolt upright in bed as her magic readied itself for a fight that did not exist. Her body was coated in a layer of sweat, her heart pounding against her ribs so loudly it drowned out any other noises around her.

A dream. It was a dream.

Aelin could still feel the comforting strength of the bond around her heart, knew that Rowan was alive, though far.

She dug the heels of her palms into her eyes, hunched over on the bed.

_ It wasn’t real. _

She should have known that seeing Rowan again was too good to be true, that kissing him was too much of a blessing to ask for. 

Perhaps it was a message from the gods, telling her that going to Rowan would only lead to pain. It had been a warning. Going to Doranelle would mean risking that others would learn of their bond, and that would put them in danger.

If she stayed here, he would be safe.

That was all that mattered.

…

Rowan thought of Aelin every night. Thinking of her, of her smile and her eyes, trying to remember the sound of her laugh… it relaxed him. 

But he had yet to dream of her. Until tonight.

_ There was a figure standing on a balcony, overlooking a sprawling forest. Golden hair swung with the breeze, teasing the hem of her green dress. Even without seeing her face, Rowan knew without a doubt who it was. _

_ Aelin. _

_ She was so damned close. He could smell her jasmine perfume, could scent the faint smoke that always clung to her body. She was here. _

_ Rowan started forward, the syllables of her name forming on his lips, but then she turned, and he faltered.  _

_ Yes, it was undoubtedly Aelin, but she was different. Her face had slimmed, become sharper and more angular, but no less beautiful. She was older, perhaps by five years or so, but her turquoise eyes still held that mischievous glimmer that he loved so.  _

_ But her older appearance wasn’t what stopped him in his tracks. _

_ It was her swollen belly. _

_ Aelin was pregnant, about ready to burst, in fact. _

_ She had a hand resting on her stomach, a beautiful diamond glimmering in the warm, afternoon light.  _

_ She turned her face towards him, and smiled. For a moment, Rowan thought it was for him. _

_ But then a figure brushed past him and headed towards Aelin. _

_ Dorian Havilliard. He, too, looked older. His shoulders had grown broader, stronger, a beard covering a strong jaw. His bright eyes were filled with happiness as he looked towards Aelin.  _

_ Rowan could only watch as Dorian cupped Aelin’s face in his hands and pressed a soft, loving kiss to her lips before his palms covered hers on her belly. Aelin was pregnant with Dorian’s child, because Aelin was Dorian’s wife and… _

_ And Aelin was smiling at him. She was happy, and that look in her eyes… _

_ She had grown to love Dorian. _

_ The dark-haired prince wrapped his arms around Aelin, tugging her to his side. _

_ They were in love, they were safe. _

_ Rowan should be happy. _

_ But it hurt far more than he cared to admit. _

…

Rowan awoke with damp eyes and a pain in his chest.

He sat up, back pressed against the headboard of his bed, staring blankly at the sheets. 

He had seen Aelin interact with Dorian before he left, had seen that they were fond of one another. He could have guessed that, because of that deep friendship they shared, it was possible for them to grow to love one another.

Yes. Dorian would be good for her. They would be good for each other.

Rowan should have been able to sleep easy knowing that.

But he flew through the mountains until the sun rose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> new chapter! feels like its been forever since I last posted. Anyway, here a bunch more angst.  
> once again, thank you all for the continued support! I hope you all are still enjoying it despite all the angst i've been posting for the last few chapters.  
> tell me what yall think!!!

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a lil something I've been working on in my free time. First work published on AO3 so I'm still figuring out how this site works. Lmk what yall think!


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